Cupid's Arrow
by ray4ruffles
Summary: Prompt for a Psyche and Cupid story- Puckleberry.  Cheerio Captain Quinn Fabray is ready to tear down one Gleek Rachel Berry, so she sends her badass minion Puck to take care of her.  But what happens when Puck screws up?  AU season 1.
1. Chapter 1

_Prompt by _Noelle86: Cupid and Psyche as a Puckleberry story.

**A/N:** To anybody reading this, have mercy. This is a lot of firsts: my first attempt at prompt; my first story off-canon; my first Puckleberry fic; and my first smut fic. So it may be a little slow to start, and a bit...rough, to say the least (and no, that's not innuendo). So yeah, don't come down too hard on me, okay?

**Other A/N:** This fic is set in season one time, but very AU.

**One Last A/N:** If you're just reading for smut (b/c I know some of us are like that), skip to chapter 3, 6, 8, 9, 12, **and 23**

* * *

It was a warm day at William McKinley High School and the Cheerios had had a rigorous but successful practice, but Captain Quinn Fabray was still pissed. She felt sick with disgust at the events that had laid out around her and she felt compelled as the Venus de McKinley and alpha female of the social hierarchy to fix the ridiculous situation that was Rachel Berry.

Quinn wasn't sure how it had started, but she was fairly certain about when: around the same time that damn Glee Club had begun, and her darling star quarterback boyfriend Finn Hudson had for some ungodly reason decided to join. He sounded good, don't get her wrong, and she admitted it was kind of sexy—but not when he was parading around with that…_thing_.

Even worse, ever since he joined, Finn had done little but talk about her: _Rachel said this and Rachel thinks that_. As if what RuPaul had to say mattered, to her or the world in general.

She'd joined Glee on Coach Sylvester's orders in order to bring down the club, but her real intent was to bring down that Berry chick, to keep close to her Finn. However, instead all she seemed able to do was watch him become further infatuated with her.

She realized this would take drastic measures.

* * *

Quinn Fabray walked confidently to Mike Chang's party Friday night. If she didn't have a mission, she would have been even more furious that she was attending alone; that Finn had to practice his duet with Rachel Berry. Tonight, however, that was…well, not _fine_ by any means, but it would make things simpler.

She took a cup and filled it from the keg, surveying the scene for her target. She took her time to smile at the multitudes of guys that glanced at her in her skimpy uniform appreciatively; after all, she was easily labeled McKinley's (if not world's) best eye candy. When she finally caught sight of _him_, arguing in what appeared to be a sensational (and often recurring) break-up with fellow Cheerio and Glee-spy Santana Lopez, she knew she had found exactly what she needed.

Noah Puckerman—Puck—was a self-proclaimed bad-ass, stud, and sex-shark. He possessed an allure and charm that, despite his reputation as a womanizing bastard, had yet to keep any of his targets away. He also had a disturbing ability to convince girls to hook up with guys of his choosing, a service which Quinn had utilized in the past to improve her own social standing. And Puck's slimy underhandedness and lack of morals was exactly what Quinn needed now in order to knock Rachel Berry down to size.

She waited until the crowd had died down from his and Santana's public display and he'd hit the keg multiple times to join him. She slid up to him, legs straddling the chair next to his allowing easy visual access up her skirt (another excellent reason to wear spanks: all the manipulation without any loss of modesty).

Puck was drunk, but he wasn't stupid. When he realized the golden-haired goddess sitting next to him was none other than Quinn Fabray, who happened to be flying sans boyfriend, he could feel the potential in the air.

"'Sup Fabray?" he leered, smirking at her. "Looking for some company?" He was certain that her bitch was showing when, instead of rolling her eyes and making a snarky comment, she instead leaned just a little closer, matching his expression with one of her own.

"I was thinking we could go upstairs," she faked a slur in her words just a little, letting her fingers graze his arm. "_Talk_." She raised her eyebrows. He bought it, hook, line, and sinker, and took her hand, leading her to the closest bedroom on the second floor.

When the door shut, she allowed him to kiss her; actually sort of relished it. His hands held her roughly, pushing her up against the door as he smashed his lips against hers. He was obviously skilled and experienced, unlike Finn who was somewhat awkward with his hands (with all of himself if she were being honest). And his _tongue_…

Quinn snapped herself out of the moment, lest she be just another one of Puck's conquests. The guy was a regular Cupid, throwing unwitting women into whomever's arms he chose (usually his own). She had to maintain control; she didn't want to end up on the wrong side of his point.

She gazed at him sternly, pulling away from him. "I need a favor," she told him. She'd decided doing it straight-up would be the best option; negotiating had never been difficult for her when it came to the opposite sex.

"I just did you a favor last week," he replied, and he had. She'd decided Summer Foley wasn't worthy of being in the top five couples, and so had asked Puck to use his "influence" to knock her down. He'd banged her twice, she'd chased after him three days, and then had to settle for the swim team guys when she realized all of his teammates thought she was pathetic.

He leaned in to tempt her with another kiss. "Unless you want a different favor…" he whispered, the smirk in his voice dripping with innuendo.

Quinn quickly pulled away, trying not to let her body show how much it hated the distance. "Not a chance, Puckerman," she snapped, managing to keep her voice sharp.

Puck straightened, pulling himself out of the moment. He'd known Quinn would never choose him over Finn; he'd arranged it himself, though she'd never know it.

"What is it then, and what's in it for me?" he asked curiously. Besides being a stud, he was a regular badass, and always dug a challenge—and here the Queen Bee was to dish it out.

"I need you to work your charms and take care of Rachel Berry."

"Berry?" Puck barely knew the name; just enough to match it with a crazy-ass, slushie-covered face he saw pretty regularly. Girl was not well-liked by the alpha crowd. "Easy hit— where's the challenge?"

"I don't want Man Hands with _you_," Quinn retorted, and was pleased to see Puck's interest was now piqued. "I want her _away_ from Finn; so far away that she's flitting with the rest of the bottom dwellers where she belongs." She waited a beat for good measure, maintaining hard eye contact. "Jacob Ben-Israel."

Puck could barely believe it, but he flinched a little. He understood the blonde wanting to maintain her hold on her man (how could she not?), and she'd recruited him to set up various Cheerio's with certain jocks to maintain her top status in the past, but setting low-standing Berry up with Jew-fro? That just seemed…overkill.

Still, he was the Puckerone, and it's not like he gave a shit about any girl, much less some slushie-covered freak that he didn't even know.

"What's in it for me?" he asked, once again moving closer to her. He ran his hand through her silky hair, and Quinn felt herself shiver involuntarily.

"I can pay you," she answered, trying to avoid his gaze as the heat emanating from him began pooling into her. "Five hundred."

Puck chuckled. "Fabray," he scoffed, pressing soft kisses down her jaw and neck."I know your daddy's pockets run deeper than _that_."

Quinn was losing the battle with her body as it began eagerly responding to his calloused hands, and she heard herself whispering, "Whatever you want."

When Puck murmured his price in her ear, she shivered again. Despite her brain's attempt to get her to bargain, manipulate, get what she wanted because she was _Quinn Fabray_, she instead felt herself nod helplessly.

Quinn's resolve completely crumbled as he moved away, his trademark smirk beginning to turn from her; to leave the room. She reached back for him and brought his lips to hers, relishing in his touch as his hand slid down her back, pulling her closer to him, gasping as she felt his erection pushing into her.

Puck smiled; Quinn Fabray was definitely one girl he was dying to have a second taste of. He cupped her jaw and pressed his lips to hers again, snaking his tongue into her mouth.

He steered her to the bed and she succumbed to him all but completely, only pausing a moment to whisper urgently, "No one can ever know."

"Just between us, babe."


	2. Chapter 2

Puck walked down the hallways with a fat smirk all over his face Monday morning. Quinn had been just as good as he remembered, and it wasn't like _she_ was going to tell, so Finn would never find out. Plus now he got to be his underhanded and devious self, and he fuckin' _loved_ that.

As he'd assured Quinn when she'd forked over the cash, by this time he had smoothed things over with Santana and convinced her to throw him a couple invites to her next party. God love the girl, she had planned a masquerade party at Brittany's request—the perfect opportunity to do some (underhanded) matchmaking, if he did say so himself. He checked the information he'd flirted out of the secretary and confidently slid the invites into the selected lockers. Now all he had to do was wait for the prey to come to him.

* * *

Rachel Berry walked quickly through the halls of McKinley in yet another attempt to make it from one class to another inconspicuously. Unfortunately, this still required a stop at her locker, and so she attempted to make quick work of the combination.

"Oh my Gucci, did you see?" Rachel's fellow Glee clubber and quasi-friend Kurt asked as he and his BFF Mercedes saddled up next to her, both holding small slips of paper in their hands like they were made of gold.

"Girl, we've been invited to Santana's masquerade bash this weekend," Mercedes gushed in response to the petite brunette's inquisitive look. She exclaimed again in excitement as a paper fluttered out of Rachel's own locker. "And so did you!"

"Who'd have thought that having Cheerios in Glee would have such an instantaneous effect?" Kurt wondered in awe.

Rachel, however, felt a tad suspicious. "As enthusiastic I am to attend a gathering with the elite of McKinley's student body," she told them, looking over the flier. "I can't help but wonder if perhaps there is some ulterior motive."

"Girl, you are just being paranoid," Mercedes replied. "It's not like anyone's going to be pulling a _Carrie_ on us. Finn, Quinn, Santana, Brittany—we're with them now."

A few more words of encouragement and the two had Rachel convinced and just as excited. Of course, the moment caused them to forget their circumstances and the instant they turned away from Rachel's locker, three slushies suddenly found their targets.

The three stood in shock as the multiple jocks laughed hysterically before quickly making toward a bathroom to change.

* * *

Rachel walked into the choir room at the end of the day to find Quinn and Finn already there. She smiled brightly at them both, and then a bit more when Finn smiled enthusiastically back. She tried to distance herself from the gawky teen, knowing that Quinn (who all but hated her) felt especially threatened by the two interacting in Glee; yet she couldn't help wanting to fuel the potential relationship she'd easily developed with the fellow music-lover.

"Hey Rache!" Finn greeted, patting the seat next to him. As she sat, he asked, "Did you do something different with your hair?"

Rachel managed not to laugh out loud; why was it boys always seemed to think that if one looked different than usual, it had to do with one's hair? "I was slushied this morning," she answered. "So I had to wash it during lunch."

Quinn, meanwhile, smiled inwardly. She had personally influenced the jocks to make a habit out of slushying losers, and made sure that Rachel Berry topped that list. It was nice to know that some things were still working in her favor. However, she had to fake a sympathetic face when Finn became upset over Man-Hand's condition so as not to give away her delight.

And then her pleasure was suddenly cut short as Mr. Schuester walked in and began rehearsal, and she again was forced to watch her love singing and dancing and touching _her_. She reminded herself continually that in a few short days Rachel Berry would be mooning over the lowest of the low, and she'd easily be able to regain Finn's attentions.

* * *

Rachel wasn't sure where the week had gone, but suddenly it was Friday night. Kurt had somehow convinced her that a makeover was necessary (the style-addict insisting that he needed a "fix" before the party anyways, so she may as well benefit from his love of facials and fashion), and so she now approached Santana's doorstep with a short black skirt and a crimson halter top, with dozens of silver bangle bracelets and stiletto heels, and completed with a silver mask decorated with red feathers. As she walked in, she actually felt a rush in her obvious anonymity—nobody looked at her with disdain or even anything less than neutrality. In fact, she noticed as her face flushed in pleasure, quite a few were looking on in obvious appreciation.

Puck had been watching the door all night in a simple black mask from a corner where he was doing some heavy petting with a shameless freshman. When he spotted Berry walk in (and he knew it was her; even unslushied and in normal clothes, girl's body language screamec her name), he stayed put, but made sure to follow her carefully as she made her way to the keg; to her friends; watching as she giggled and talked with the Glee kids around her.

It literally had taken him about ten seconds after the brunette had walked in the door to peg her situation. She was a midget, but with miles of legs and her toned body, there was no doubt girl was smokin'. Apparently she wasn't much for flaunting it, but he realized she probably could rock the school girl look if she wasn't constantly covered in slushies or being trashed by those on the higher-up. Puck took a moment to give Quinn her due; it's not every girl that is smart enough to take out the competition before she even realizes there's a chance. And now he felt a pang of guilt, since he was going to basically fuck the chick over indefinitely by handing her off to Jew-Fro. However, the money was already invested in his getting the hell out of Lima, and he sure as hell wasn't going to let some girl (even a hot midget) get in the way of that.

He made his way outside, to the hedges lining the backyard. Sure enough, when he reached in the third shrub, he easily pulled out a stunned Jacob Ben-Isreal, holding binoculars and a camera phone.

"Hey loser," Puck grunted, imitating a tone similar to Karofsky. "You want to report the action or man up and finally get some?"

The nerd, who had moments before been shielding his face, now looked up curiously at the masked stranger, obviously trying to place him. Puck steered them both another few steps into the shadow, and laid his trap.

"Rachel Berry's been looking for you all night," Puck lied, watching as the gullible boy's face lit up in delight. "She's a little drunk, though, so in roughly an hour she'll wander upstairs to the first door on the right—if you act now, you can sneak in and wait for her."

He pulled out a second mask, identical to his own, and handed it to the creep, who eagerly took it and began creeping into the party, following the stranger's instructions to a T. Puck watched him and then, smirking at his cleverness, made his way back to the party himself.


	3. Chapter 3

When he found her, he could see Rachel Berry was indeed a little buzzed, though maybe not quite drunk. She was dancing pretty gracefully, but mostly suggestively (_very_ suggestively); even Puck could feel himself reacting to her as she let her hand slide up and down her torso as she writhed to the music. He snaked his way through the crowd to invade her space, sliding a hand around her waist and dancing with her. She accepted his silent request easy enough, and they fell into the smooth rhythm that was _Transylvanian Concubine_ (where did Santana come up with these playlists?). He actually found his jeans tightening as she reached behind her to pull his face closer to hers, singing softly into his ear.

_Sorrow is their master_

_Cackling their laughter_

_Now he's having just one piece of...  
Catholics try to shake up  
_

Rachel didn't know what was she was doing. Apparently Kurt's makeover had also come with an amazing confidence boost in her own sex appeal. She was glowing at the attention she was receiving, dancing with Tina (in a sequined, violet mask to match the streaks in her hair and dress) and Brittany (decked out in a leopard-print mask to match her tube-top and tight black pants) to a song all of her friends were surprised she knew. And when a solid, handsome (even with a mask) stranger approached her, the chemistry she felt with him convinced her to wrap her arms around him and slowly grind against him. When she heard a slight hitch, she felt empowered, and allowed herself to step up again, singing a few choice verses that she was particularly fond of.

_All the things that form their lives, but  
they're...dead, their sighs, their songs  
They know what they do is wrong. _

_Stay with us, it's just fine_

_Transylvanian Concubine…_

Puck smiled despite himself: the girl was a regular siren. Her voice was smooth and sultry and buzzed in his ear, causing him to grab her tightly there on the floor. She looked up at him, inviting, but he knew he couldn't risk being spotted with her in public. He took her hand and began leading her up the stairs, to the room across from the very one he'd sent Jew-Fro to earlier.

Puck was a badass sex stud, to be sure. He could make a girl see stars in the sack, then dump her and charm the panties off her best friend before the sheets were cold. However, thanks to his deadbeat, almost-good-for-nothing dad, he also had a little something that he used every now and again in order to supplement his income. His dad had called it his "Cupid's Arrow", but for Puck, it was just another key to his badass-ness. His chemistry wasn't probably what it should be, but he figured inside the dart-like packet were parts ecstacy, a little THC, and a hallucinogenic that he couldn't label, but only worked if you were relaxed practically to the point of coma. Puck had found that his magic (placed into the body via a simple scratch of the point), induced by a little mind-blowing sex, could temporarily convince someone that they were having the best fucking sex of their life with whomever he told them he was. The temporary love spell usually lasted long enough for them to believe what they had was the real deal, and voila—crazy love. He'd only used it select few times, but his persuasion powers (along with his normal prowess in the sack) were rumored enough to the point that people like Quinn sought him out when they were desperate.

Ironically, Quinn was actually a recipient of such a hit; though she couldn't remember, there was a time when Finn had done nothing but moon over her, and, as his best friend, Puck felt it was justified to pull some strings. And now they were the fucking Golden Couple—he felt he should receive a medal or some shit.

Although now, as he steered Rachel Berry into the dark room and began kissing her hungrily, his CA in his back pocket, he realized maybe he should have the shit beaten out of him instead.

He quickly put that thought, along with all others, out of his mind as he focused intently on the gorgeous girl in front of him.

Rachel couldn't believe she was doing this, making out with a strange guy in a dark room at Santana Lopez's party. She was either a super lightweight (after all, she'd only had one beer), or she was just completely overwhelmed by the chemistry and magnetism of her mystery guy. She hadn't talked to the stranger at all really, but she could feel herself drawn to him, and he to her. And then he started kissing her, and she stopped thinking…

He kissed her hungrily, eagerly, and was surprised at his own pleasure when she matched him. Her lips were soft, and tasted like cherries, and he loved the way her breath hitched slightly as he kissed down her neck and softly sucked at her pulse point. Puck pushed her toward the bed, tossing her mask aside as he lay her against the pillows (while keeping his own secure). She pulled him closer, her tongue tracing his bottom lip just before her teeth nipped it, and he groaned as his jeans tightened even more.

His hand easily slid up her shirt as her own tugged the hem of his. They separated for the briefest of moments as he all but tore off her top and then his own, and smiled as she stared appreciatively at the rippling muscles that covered his bare torso. Poor girl probably would never get to enjoy something like this again, so he wanted to make it worth her while.

He wasn't having a bad view himself, as he allowed himself to fully take her in: her body sleek and smooth, black lace bra practically heaving with her breaths. He kissed her again, his tongue sliding into her mouth and massaging her own as his arm snaked around and undid the clasp of her bra. He traced her small but perky breasts with his hands, tweaking them into peaks before dragging his tongue lower to encase each in his mouth, sucking and flicking softly as he lavished upon each. He could hear her moaning in pleasure, and he knew he had to play this right.

Then she threw him a little. He had assumed she'd be a virgin, or selfish, as most girls (and cougars) he'd been with were. However, he found her tiny frame suddenly pushing him backwards, throwing his jeans to the side to release his throbbing cock (yeah, he went commando—it was more badass that way). Before he realized what she had in mind, her tiny hand had fisted him and was pumping his dick up and down, as her mouth began exploring his body, kissing down his torso, tugging slightly at his nipple ring.

Rachel traced a slow pattern down his midline with her tongue, just before enveloping his cock in her mouth. He felt his entire body shake as her tongue twisted and flicked his head. Her fingers were gently rolling his boys back and forth, tugging so softly and yet in such a way that absolutely drove him wild. He was running out of willpower as she seemed to take in more and more of him. He was past disbelief when he felt her nose touch his body; and when he felt her swallow, he almost blew his load.

"God, Rache," he moaned, fisting her hair and not even bothering to worry about whether she'd wonder how he'd know her name. "I'm gonna lose it babe," he started to warn her, but then "My fucking God…_fuck_…" as he felt her moan softly, causing him to vibrate in her mouth, and he couldn't hold it anymore. He let go, groaning her name and falling back on the bed. He couldn't help but shudder with added pleasure as she swallowed his juices, her tongue flicking the soft flesh.

Rachel moved upwards to lay next to him as he breathed, kissing his shoulder, his jaw, his lips softly, reaching to take off his mask, but he took her hand and flipped her onto her back. She wasn't sure why he wouldn't take it off; it was sweat-soaked and couldn't possibly be comfortable, but she didn't push it.

As he began kissing down her body, once again teasing her breasts with his tongue, and now allowing his hands to trace down her hips, unzipping her skirt and slipping them and her panties off her body as his fingers ghosted down and then back up her thighs toward her center, she asked him breathlessly, "Who are you?"

He said nothing at first, and she pulled his face to hers with a sudden force. His eyes were the most amazing mix of hazel and green, mesmerizing, and they contained a softness as they went wide at meeting her own. He looked surprised, like he was amazed that she even saw him.

"Noah," he whispered hesitantly, as if afraid that telling her would ruin everything. She pulled him closer, kissing him as she murmured his name happily. Seemingly reassured by her acceptance, his fingers began stroking her clit, and her murmurs soon turned to whimpers of pleasure. He stroked her lightly, waiting for her back to start arching as her body pushed against his calloused hands before he began increasing pressure, and then inserted a finger into her. She was tight and wet, and he began pumping, soon adding a second finger as he curled in and out of her. She began panting, grabbing his neck to pull him closer, but he had pulled away as he slid his tongue down her body, around her clit, licking and sucking while his fingers worked inside of her.

"Noah…" she moaned in ecstasy. He loved the way his name rolled off her tongue, and he found himself getting hard again. He switched his hand and tongue, working her bundle of nerves over, tongue thrusting as his arm reaching out to hold down her waist when she began to buck against him.

"Noah—God, please yes…" she cried softly against him.

He raised his head. "Let go, babe," he growled. "Do it for me." And he tweaked her that little bit, listening to her moan his name as she completely fell apart. He lapped her up, stroking the insides of her thighs as she shuddered.

By now Puck was bursting with anticipation (again), and he quickly climbed on top of her, languishing kisses all over her again. Pulling a condom out of the side drawer (Santana's family was that predictable), he quickly tore through the foil and slid it on his bulging cock.

He took another moment to look down at the petite beauty beneath him. Her eyes were burning with lust and trust, as if she somehow already knew him better than anyone. Her body was covered in a sheen of sweat, glistening in the low lighting of the room. Her breasts, her skin, every part he could touch felt like nothing but perfection, and he couldn't understand how he'd become so lucky to snag such a girl that he barely knew.

This entire assessment took but a second, and then Puck positioned himself just outside of her, his cock teasing as it brushed her outer lips. Rachel arched herself and took him partially into her, and he lost all coherent thought except to fully sheath himself. He began slowly, gently, taking all sorts of pleasure from her tight wet pussy.

Puck nearly lost it (again) when he heard her whispering "harder, Noah—please, I _need_ you."

He began thrusting himself inside of her, finding her body matching him pound for pound. He slid his fingers back down to her center, massaging the nerves once again and relishing her moans.

"That's it baby…you're so fucking good…just let it go…Fuck Rachel!"

"God Noah…so good…_so_ good…Noah!"

She came just before he did, to which he was grateful, and they both collapsed, exhausted, onto the bed. He tied off the condom and threw it away, and she lay back on his chest, trying to catch her breath.


	4. Chapter 4

Puck watched the minutes slip by on the clock as Rachel slept. The party was still going on downstairs, probably would be for another hour or so, so he was in no rush. But he should be. He should be hooking Rachel up with Jew-Fro; should have sent her his way over half an hour ago. Instead he just let her lay there, her head on his bare chest, him playing with the soft tendrils of her dark hair, taking in her vanilla and strawberry scent. He had a job to do, but he looked at her and couldn't bring himself to do it—it was just too hard to give her up. He wanted her so bad; he lo—

_Oh shit_.

Puck's head snapped up in sudden realization. He slowly slid Rachel off of his chest, reaching in the dark for his jeans and stumbling into the bathroom. As he turned on the light, contorting his body in the mirror, his masked-face noted a small scratch on his back not made by fingernails. And then he realized: his CA must have fallen out of his pocket and grazed him at some time in the night. If it had been after that indescribable blow job…

Puck didn't want to think about it. He'd seen the effects of the damn drug, and he desperately wanted to believe that he hadn't accidentally dosed himself with goddamn Cupid's Arrow when he'd flopped back after receiving the best orgasm by oral sex of his life. However, the affectionate names; the looks he realized he'd been giving her since then—he may very well be fucked (and not in a good way).

He had to get out of there. He knew he couldn't finish the job and hand her off to Jacob—he cared too damn much to do that—but he also knew they'd both be screwed if Quinn found them together. So he made up his mind, pulled on his jeans, and walked resolutely back to the bed.

He made sure his mask was secure before gently shaking her awake. She stirred, slightly disoriented in the unfamiliar room, then blushed as she realized the incredibly impulsive action she'd taken. He also noticed, with a tinge of guilt, the slight hurt in her face as she took note of his being redressed and no longer in bed.

"Babe," he told her softly, kissing her forehead. "The party's going to be over soon—we'd better head back down."

Her eyes flashed upward. "Goodness!" she all but exclaimed, groping in the darkness for her clothes. "I'd better make sure my friends haven't deserted me on the assumption I was already gone."

Puck felt a desire to offer her a ride, but he suppressed it, knowing seeing her again would be a bad idea. He instead watched in silence as she pulled on her clothes, refitting her mask, and swept her messy hair into a ponytail. She began walking to the door, turning back to him just before she left.

"So," she paused, afraid to ask the question. "Will I ever see you again?" She held her breath as she felt the weight of the words fill the room.

Rachel tried not to show her hurt as he gruffly responded. "I don't know." He walked up to her quickly, and embraced her, and Rachel couldn't help but wonder if his uncertainty had to do with what he wanted or her own social standing (or lack thereof). "I won't forget you though," he whispered into her ear as he kissed her cheek gently, and she felt herself shiver.

She rushed downstairs as soon as he turned away, unsure of her ability to maintain a cool exterior in the face of such a connection broken in such a short span of time. She found Kurt, who. for once, had not taken notice of her mysterious disappearance and did not question her sudden desire to leave, nor her quiet reflection the entire ride home.

* * *

Puck tried to ignore the flutter in his stomach Monday morning. He'd been trying to suppress the drugs in his system all weekend, to no avail. Every time he thought of Rachel—_Berry_, he corrected himself angrily—he'd gotten hard thinking about their unbelievable night together and have to rub one out or take a cold shower. He didn't trust himself to call up Santana for relief, because he was almost positive that Ra-_Berry's_ name might slip from his lips. He couldn't stop thinking of her lips, her smell, her legs wrapped around his waist…

_Goddamn_. School was most definitely not the place to be thinking about any of this. He gripped the item he carried harder, determined to force the midget out of his head. As he walked through the hallway, his breath hitched involuntarily as he suddenly saw her.

She was obviously different than she'd been that night—her makeup was more natural, her outfit playing more to the eccentric, with a plaid skirt and yellow sweater. And yet, as she smiled, she still had this glow to her that he couldn't seem to shake out of his head. Yet.

He walked straight up to her, only stopping to wind back his right arm and thrust the bright red slushy forward into her face, causing its bright expression to twist down into shock. As the drink dripped down her neck onto her clothes, he listened to the enthusiastic laughter echoing in the halls at her humiliation, and waited for his own satisfaction to settle in.

As he watched her scuttle down the hall to the nearest bathroom, Puck smirked—he was a badass; he was a stud; he was…an asshole. He turned to walk away before anyone noticed his less than fully satisfied demeanor, but not before he caught eyes with none other than Quinn Fabray. Her expression of sadistic pleasure was almost enough to make him nauseous, and he gave her a quick nod before heading to the nurse's office to sleep off the drug and his damn guilt.

* * *

Rachel had spent most of her weekend contemplating her rash action at Santana's party. She'd considered the possibility of her drink being spiked, or her size simply making her ridiculously unable to hold her alcohol. However, she couldn't help but conclude that the deciding factor had to be the incredible magnetism of her mystery Noah.

She'd spent an equal amount of time trying to determine the identity of said boy. Noah wasn't an incredibly common name, especially in Lima, but there were still 8 in her high school according to the yearbook, and for some strange reason (ie, probably drunk) she was having trouble recalling any discernable features. She'd been able to rule out Noah Addams from chemistry simply because she was sure she'd remember if her stranger's right arm had a massive birthmark. Both Noah Puckerman and Noah Reynolds were excluded based on their jock status and the fact that they slushied and tormented her all but daily. And Noah Francisco from biology was out because she knew his eyes were brown from their Mendelian genetics labwork, and if there was something she couldn't forget about _her _Noah, it was his amazing green eyes. However, this still left four that she felt dubious of, not to mention any of the possible non-McKinley boys Santana was known to invite to her soiree's.

When Monday rolled around and she'd found that her tryst was apparently as unknown as her mystery man, she'd simply decided to enjoy the experience for what it had been, and had floated to her classes with a bright smile on her face.

Until Noah "Puck" Puckerman assaulted her with a slushie. As she rushed to the bathroom and began rinsing her hair, she reflected to the mirror, "Well, at least I'm sure of one Noah it's _not_."


	5. Chapter 5

Puck was going crazy. The drug wasn't wearing off, and he'd tried everything: he'd hooked up with Santana and dosed her into breaking up with him (again) and running to Matt, then he'd hooked up with some sophomore Cheerio (Amy? Annie? Ally?) and dosed her so she ran straight to Azimio; and _then_ he'd hooked up with Cheryl, that kinky cougar down the street, and dosed _her_ so she all but mauled her husband. He wasn't even purposely going at it to hook these guys up—he was just out to get some. But afterwards, all he could think of was Ra—_Berry_, he angrily corrected himself. That stupid sexy midget freak was all he could think of, and so he felt bad about even being with these chicks and sent them to someone who might appreciate them. He was seriously going nuts with all this caring and feelings bullshit; he had to check himself to make sure his balls were still there and he wasn't turning into an all-out pussy.

He finally decided that maybe if he halfway sated his lust for her, watched her for awhile just to realize her freaky-ass brand of whacko, that maybe he'd get over her faster. So he did the unthinkable: he joined Glee (though he convinced his wingmen Matt and Mike too—he wasn't going to draw _that _much attention to himself over this chick).

As he walked in, he didn't miss the astonished looks that the Gleeks gave him (Berry included), or the incredulous ones the Cheerios did (Quinn mostly). But he just sat next to Finn, pretending to pay attention to what the teacher was saying and not focusing on the tight ass thrown in his face every time Finn spun Berry.

* * *

Quinn was ecstatic: sure, RuPaul hadn't ended up with Jew-Fro where she belonged, but she certainly no longer had eyes for Finn, anyone could see that. She didn't seem as irritated when Quinn suddenly appeared next to them, and she didn't make half as much of an effort to "tutor" him outside of school. She still insisted on practicing together, especially if they had a duet, but Quinn noticed happily that her mind, when not focused on the music or choreography, was blissfully elsewhere. And Finn, no longer the apple of ManHand's eye, more or less turned all of his affections back to his girlfriend, where they belonged.

So when Puck showed up in Glee, Quinn was incredulous. They had a strict, albeit unspoken, policy of staying away from each other unless she was purchasing his devious services for her own popularity needs. However, here he was, smirking at her incredulous look and sitting down in a chair, watching as if he gave a damn about music and Finn and Berry. Quinn realized the obvious conclusion and ignored practice as she made plans for her next move.

* * *

Puck stalked through the halls, barely paying attention. Granted, he'd only been in Glee two days, but he was starting to think that this was a bad idea. Berry (he'd at last gotten used to calling her that again) had insisted on speaking to him on the way out to the parking lot, where he'd almost burst as her vanilla and strawberry scent wove around him, begging Puck to kiss her. The only way he'd stopped himself was by forcing her against a nearby pick-up, avoiding her eyes and screaming in his head _Mailman! Sue Sylvester! Fucking Figgins!,_ and growling at her, "Look Berry; I don't care. We're not friends, so go hang on someone else." After which he quickly jumped in his truck to hide his cock straining against his jeans and his ridiculous desire to kiss her hard and long and fuck her in his truck.

Worse than that, he remembered the shit she said. He now knew that her favorite musical was Funny Girl, that she loved jazz more than ballet, and that she was so glad that he joined because they could always use another musician (how did she fucking know he played guitar?). He noticed that her chocolate eyes shone when she smiled, and quickly realized that, when it came to performing, she was brutally honest; so when she told him he had amazing potential, he knew she meant it. And fuck all if that didn't make him want to smile.

So yeah, he knew he needed to get out of this situation and fast. And he was so focused on getting Berry out of his head that he didn't notice when a sexy female sidled up next to him, driving him into an empty classroom.

Puck looked around, noticing that it was math class (and appreciating that he even recognized it—he'd rarely been here before) and he found himself in an awkward face-off with none other than a very pissed Quinn Fabray.

"Spill, Puckerman," she snapped, and though he kept his face neutral, his insides were twisted that she'd somehow figured everything out. "You seriously think just because you and Santana broke up and you joined Glee I'm going to want to be with you? Want to leave Finn? Because that's a load of bull and you know it."

Puck all but laughed out loud, and managed to cover his relief with an arched glance and devious smirk. She must be nervous around him, if that was her logic for him joining; and he thanked fuck for it.

"Who you kidding babe?" he murmured, inching closer to her, tracing her jaw with his fingers. "You and me, we mesh like those damn Reese's Cups." He knew he was right, that before Berry had all but pussy-whipped him that he had always wanted to take another sip from the Fountain of Fabray. He wondered if maybe his dad's fucking CA was like a fairytale curse: only to be broken by a kiss from a smokin' chick. He smirked again, leaning toward the Queen Bee gaping at him, trying to control her breathing.

"No," she insisted, backing away from him. "I love Finn; I couldn't…" Puck couldn't help his grin, wondering if she thought she was trying to convince him or herself. She glared at him, no doubt furious at his ability to make her weak. "Stop thinking whatever is in that demented brain of yours, because it's _never_ going to happen," she insisted, and with a huff stormed out the door.


	6. Chapter 6

So now, by week three of his obsession with Berry, he was going crazy. Like, to the point that he purposely irritated her so she'd talk to him, fucked girls that kinda reminded him of her, and still spent countless mornings rubbing one out in his shower—moaning her name—bat-shit crazy. He was desperate for this torment to end, and by Wednesday—"hump" day, ironically—he decided he just couldn't take it anymore.

He watched her carefully all morning. Conveniently, he'd had her morning schedule all but memorized from the year before, when he worked to optimize his slushie-to-dumpster tossing ratio. He waited patiently as the warning bell rang, then quietly slipped into the janitor's closet just down the hall from her Spanish class.

* * *

Rachel walked to Spanish, her mind flitting through conjugations for the quiz that was happening today. She was too surprised to react when a random, well-muscled arm reached out and suddenly pulled her into the janitor's closet. However, before she could reach for her rape whistle, the hands moved to pull her closer and a familiar pair of lips crushed themselves against hers.

She gasped in the dark, and "_Noah_" escaped her lips breathlessly. She'd done nothing but dream about him most nights, to the point that she'd found an excuse to speak to another Noah at school, a freshman, just to see if he sparked that flame within her. Of course he hadn't, and so she was left to her wishful thinking that he would maybe find her again.

And now here he was, here _they_ were, in the janitor's closet at school; with his hands in her hair pulling her close; his mouth kissing hers greedily and hers responding with equal enthusiasm as well as her body as it began grinding up against him.

Rachel felt the heat pooling within her as she listened to him groan, felt his cock harden against her abdomen. She whimpered in pleasure as his hand inched up her skirt, fingering the waistband of her panties. She felt a sudden thrill as she listened to him whisper "my fuck, you're so _wet_ Rache" and slip his fingers beneath the cotton, pealing them off and stroking her clit as he kissed along her jaw.

She knew she should question her own sanity—she was skipping class to fool around with a mysterious male whom she had never seen and only knew by first name. Honestly, though, she couldn't help it. He made her forget everything except him whenever his lips met hers, and she couldn't see herself making a rational thought if her life depended on it.

Noah slipped a digit into her as his thumb began rubbing her center, and she moaned against his chest. Always quick to reciprocate, she quickly undid his belt and pant zipper, reaching in to release his hardened dick. She slid her hands down his stomach, and fully grasped his cock, beginning to stroke it, gently massaging it between both hands.

She shivered in excitement as she heard him curse and then whisper in her ear, "Baby, you're too good—there won't be time." He removed her hands and replaced them on his shoulders, picking her up by the waist and pressing her against the back of the closet. He then continued to work her pussy, stroking her clit and adding a second finger in with the first.

She began to pant, and could barely hear Noah encouraging her on as she began flying straight up. She ground herself against his fingers, and he curled them inwards as he pumped them in and out of her, harder and faster. Rachel couldn't help herself, she began to chant "Noah—Noah!" and before the edge overtook her had the sense to bite down hard on his shoulder, allowing the flesh to envelop her climax.

The bite seemed to really set him off. Maintaining his hold on her, he slipped on a condom and slipped insider her, groaning her name softly the whole time. He just barely held it in as he thrust into her over and over. She whispered encouragment, fingering his boys and murmuring how good he was, how amazing he felt, and he growled out her name again as he came.

Puck set her down as gently as he could, and pulled off the condom, tossing it in the trash can. He was still panting, but he managed to breathe out, "Fuck Rache; never in my life…"

He just looked in her direction, holding her hand since he couldn't see her in the darkness. She was out of breath as well, but he was willing to wager she made a better attempt to hide it. Really; he'd never had such a girl in his life, and, whether it was the drugs or not, he wasn't sure he'd ever have one like her again. _Goddamn,_ was all he could think. _Where the hell had this girl been all his life?_

They lay together in comfortable silence for a few minutes, though in the dark it felt like an eternity. Puck allowed his hands to trail through her hair, trace patterns on her arms, pretend that what they had was real and not some smoke-and-mirrors, drug-induced fling. It made him happy; calm even.

"So you are from here then?" Rachel's whisper cut through the darkness, causing Puck's hand to still and his expression to wince. "McKinley, I mean."

"Uh, yeah."

She obviously felt the discomfort in his answer, because she quickly rambled on, "I was just curious, because after the party you implied we'd likely never see each other again." He could practically feel her flush. "I guess I just assumed you went elsewhere."

Puck felt like shit—this girl deserved so much better than what he was giving her. "Look," he told her, tracing her face with his hand. "When I said that, I didn't mean to make it sound like I didn't want to see you again; I just meant—" he paused, trying to think of something that would make sense without giving him up. "I just meant it may not be good for us to be seen together, you know?"

Rachel was suddenly glad for the darkness, because she didn't want him to see the tears that were threatening to spill. She knew she wasn't popular (at all), but that he didn't want anyone to know about them? To keep her his dirty little secret?

Though he wasn't able to see her, he could hear her small voice utter "Oh."

"Aw damn, Rache," he told her, sitting up and wrapping his arms around her tightly. "Not like that. It's not like that at all. I'm afraid of what may happen with _you_ being seen with _me_, not the other way around. Can you get that at all?"

Rachel sniffled and looked up into his barely discernable features, imagining him looking down at her. She could understand not wanting to drag down someone in the social hierarchy—wasn't that what she'd just been thinking after all?—but she couldn't for the life of her think who was lower on the pole than she.

"You must be mistaken if you can imagine that, whomever you might be, my associating with you would lower my social standing anymore than it already is," she whispered as she allowed him to pull her tighter.

"Trust me, babe," he whispered. "If you had any idea about who you really were at this school, you'd worry your ass off about hanging around people like me." He paused as he kissed her temple. "You're amazing Rachel."

They said little after that, and she allowed him to hold her until the bell rang. He helped her fix her hair a little (though she insisted she could just stop by the bathroom on her way to history), and kissed her before backing into the shadows as she headed to the door.

Rachel walked back out into the lighted hall, hoping her hair wasn't too messy from her liaison. She looked back at the closet she'd just exited, wondering who the mystery man she'd become so enamored with was and what he was hiding.


	7. Chapter 7

The flings between them continued. God knows Puck tried, but he just couldn't get her out of his system. Instead he felt like he was going through withdrawals if he went very long without touching her. In public, he still was able to keep up pretenses by coming down on her crazy, but when he could find a moment (which was maybe once a week), he'd still drag her into a closet to just be near her, touch her, even listen to her if she was having a bad day (which took a lot of restraint not to try to fix). Yet even that wasn't enough, and he found himself stretching his creative skills to find time to be with her.

The first night he snuck into her room happened to be a new moon—ridiculously dark to begin with, and as he pulled down the blinds, it enveloped the room entirely.

He could tell he startled her when he crawled into her bed, kissing her softly.

"Noah?" He couldn't help but smile as he imagined her mind fluttering, trying to decide if she was awake or dreaming.

"It's me babe," he murmured, burying his face into her hair and drawing her close.

"How did you—?" He knew she would ask how he knew where she lived; he wasn't going to tell her he'd found out freshman year when the football team had gone around egging houses after Homecoming.

"You know me babe; I'm just badass that way," he whispered, letting his hand slide up her tank, tracing up her soft skin.

After that first night, he'd sneak every couple of days or so; always after he knew she'd be asleep, even when she tried to stay up to watch him come in. They didn't always have sex; some nights they just lay together, enjoying the warmth between them (something he'd never admit he enjoyed with _any _chick). She stopped pushing his secrecy after awhile, when she realized that he'd open up about other (less revealing) things: she knew his favorite movie was _Snatch_; that he'd actually liked _Guys and Dolls _(which he insisted his mother forced him to see with his little sister) and could sing some of the songs quite beautifully; a fact she loved to tell him.

"My time of day is the dark time," he sang softly one night, as he began to inch from beneath the covers. She smiled and listened with her back turned, knowing he'd move more slowly, hesitantly, if she didn't try to see him.

_A couple of deals before dawn  
When the smell of the rainwashed pavement  
Comes up clean, and fresh, and cold  
And the grocery clerks are all gone._

_That's my time of day  
My time of day_

_And you're the only doll I've ever wanted to share it with me._

Rachel stood in front of New Directions at Rehearsal, staring into Finn's puppy dog eyes, pretending as he held her that his arms were a different set—stronger and shorter and attached to a beautiful set of hazel-green eyes.

_I've never been in love before_  
_Now all at once it's you_  
_It's you forever more._

_I've never been in love before_  
_I thought my heart was safe_  
_I thought I knew the score_  
_But this is wine that's all too strange and strong_  
_I'm full of foolish song_  
_And out my song must pour_  
_So please forgive this helpless haze I'm in_  
_I've really never been_  
_In love before._

Puck watched the two of them spin and sing and couldn't help but feel jealous. He'd made the mistake of opening up to the girl, and now he couldn't help but feel that she was using her knowledge against him. He knew that song like the back of his hand (though he'd only ever admitted it to one girl), and he could dance circles around Finn if given the chance. But he knew he couldn't take it, especially since he knew what he was feeling didn't exist, that the guy she knew wasn't real.

So he watched, repeating to himself that it didn't matter, that he didn't really care…which lasted until around 2 am when he kicked off his sheets, pulled on a pair of sweats, and jogged the six blocks to her house.

* * *

"Okay Diva, spill."

Rachel looked up in surprise to see Kurt, Mercedes, Tina, Brittany, and Santana all staring at her. Brittany had decided to hold a slumber party, and all the girls (and Kurt) except Quinn were sitting in the living room, eating pizza, painting nails, and watching one of the many movies of the night.

To be honest, Rachel hadn't been paying attention to any of it—she'd been thinking about Noah. This whatever-it-was had been going on for almost three months now, and she still knew as little about him as when they first met.

Well, that was a lie—she knew he loved music and sang beautifully (though she couldn't convince him to join Glee); that he had a mom and little sister whom he thought the world of; that he loved video games and had actually put a lot of effort into justifying the philosophy behind them; and that he seemed to think very little of himself. Regardless of his hard, fuck-all exterior, she could tell by the way he spoke of himself and getting out of Lima that he carried many insecurities about his own worth, despite her insistence about the potential she saw in him.

What she didn't know was what every girl in a relationship generally did: his face and his last name.

Meanwhile, she realized that her fellow girls (and Kurt) were still staring at her expectantly.

"What do you mean?" she asked, trying to stall for an excuse.

"I mean you're mind has been elsewhere for the past ever," Kurt replied. "We've all noticed it—you are just awful at hiding your emotions."

"What's his name?" Mercedes chimed in as Rachel blushed.

"I don't think I really want to talk about my personal relationships…"

"_You_ don't want to talk about it?" Kurt repeated. "This must be good."

Rachel looked around at her friends (or the closest thing she'd had to friends since grade school) and contemplated how to explain her problem. She decided maybe it couldn't hurt to get an outside perspective…

"Well," she began slowly. "I've been…sort of dating this boy for about three months now."

"That's great Rachel!" Tina supplied enthusiastically.

"And you didn't tell us?" Kurt asked in shock. "Who is he?"

"His name is Noah," she answered, smiling in spite of herself. "He's musical, athletic, and very sweet."

"Aw," Tina smiled. "What's he look like?"

"Well—I don't know exactly," Rachel told them honestly. Her face flushed again at their incredulous faces. "I've never really seen him."

"Ooh! An online hookup!" Mercedes guessed. "Girl's expanding."

"Probably 'cause ManHands could never get a guy interested if he actually saw her face," Santana said, not even looking up as she inspected her newly-polished nails.

Rachel didn't want to admit otherwise, so she decided not to correct their off-assumptions. "Well, he just seems hesitant for us to actually meet—you know, face-to-face."

"Are you having cyber sex?" Santana asked, causing the entire group to turn to Rachel, who blushed even deeper (by now she probably resembled a tomato) and shook her head furiously. Santana scoffed. "He's probably gay—did you tell him about your dads?"

"I tried cyber sex once, but he kept telling me I needed insurance," Brittany offered.

Rachel tried to ignore the comments and moved to segue anywhere else.

"Hey," she told them, holding up Final Destination 3. "We haven't watched this movie yet."

Both Kurt and Mercedes threw her disapproving looks as she jumped up to put the disc in the player, but they halted their inquisition for the time being. Though Rachel was never a big fan of senseless graphic violence, she appreciated the distraction the movie provided.

When she got up to refill the popcorn bowl and grab more sodas (and a water for herself), she was surprised to see that Santana and Brittany had followed her.

"So Berry," the Latina said. "You really have no idea what this guy looks like?" Her eyebrows arched in disbelief as Rachel nodded wordlessly. "And you're _okay_ with that?"

"Well, not exactly, but I don't see—"

"He could be anybody Berry," the Cheerio insisted. "The name is probably totally made up—he could be a pedophile, or old, or a loser."

"He could be me," Brittany added. When they looked at her, she clarified "it's not, though."

Santana turned back to Rachel. "Not that I care who you go screwing around with, RuPaul," she continued. "But no one's going to respect you what little they do if you find out your boyfriend is Figgins or Jew-Fro and you didn't even try to figure it out before you got all kinky."

Rachel paused. Santana had a point—not about Noah being old or Principal Figgins, but that she didn't really even know who she was with. Maybe she did deserve some answers; but how would she ever convince Noah she needed to know?

"Maybe," she conceded. "But how—"

"You just need to set up a meet or something—get him somewhere dark, where he feels comfortable, and then flip on your cell and take a pic or something before he knows what hit him."

Santana looked at Rachel pointedly, who considered the proposal.

"You really believe that will work?" Rachel asked dubiously.

Santana and Brittany nodded, as the blonde explained, "totally; one time I was making out with Mark Taylor in the janitor's closet, and I thought he was thinking about San, so I turned on the light by the garbage bags and then hit him with my phone."

Rachel and Santana stared at the girl for a moment before part of her words caught Rachel's attention. She said nothing as she quickly grabbed her supplies and strode back to the living room.


	8. Chapter 8

Rachel awoke in the night as she heard the rustling of a sliding window, and the light footsteps of her Noah. She murmured happily as he crawled under the covers next to her and kissed her shoulders.

She reached her arm back , taking a moment to appreciate his defined abs and toned body, tracing over his well-muscled arms, before sliding under his sweats, grasping his cock and slowly stroking it with her fingers. She smiled as he groaned and kissed her hair, using his hand to brush it to one side as he leaned forward to suck her earlobe. She felt his hands explore her body in return, trailing along her torso toward her breasts.

Kissing her neck softly, he took them both into his hands, massaging the nipples with his thumbs. She moaned against him, and mewled softly as he pinched them into hard peaks and ground against her, his hard dick sliding against her back.

Noah ghosted one hand down her body, teasing her waistband before sliding her shorts down her legs, and she willingly helped him as she kicked them off. She moved to turn toward him, but he held her steady, sliding his own sweats off quickly and replacing her back against her hand stroking his growing erection.

Her breath hitched as his thumb stroked her center, flicking and rubbing her already wet nerves and whispering his approval. She gasped as he slid two fingers in at once, curling them alternately inside of her, and then slowly pulled them back out. Rachel gasped softly when she saw him slide his fingers into his mouth, reaching across her shoulder to kiss her again and using his tongue to share her juices between them. It was an unbelievable turn-on, and she felt her own hand grip his cock harder, taking him on the way up that elicited a growl of pleasure from his lips. His mouth fell to her neck, nipping and kissing everywhere he could reach, desperate to brand what he felt was his (though he knew she disapproved of visible markings). His fingers trailed back down her body, his thumb rubbing her clit as his fingers teased her folds, gently sliding into her again. He raked his teeth down the nape of her neck, causing her to hiss in ecstasy, then began pumping his fingers harder inside of her against her g-spot as she stroked his balls, arching her back against him.

"Tell me," he whispered, relishing the involuntary whine that escaped her when he paused. "What do you want Rachel?"

Rachel hadn't stopped panting, her body aching from his tease. "You Noah," she told him breathlessly. "I need you inside me—to make me cum."

That was all he needed. He tweaked her already hard nipples with his free hand and thrust into her from behind with his gloved dick, using his arm around her waist to drive himself into her. He held his own breath as hers became erratic, working to keep his control until he heard her sultry voice.

"More Noah," she whimpered, and, if possible, he became even harder inside of her. "God Noah, harder…harder…" Her voice was growing higher and he pulled her closer against his throbbing cock over and over. He freed one of his hands to slip back toward her clit, stroking it in time with his thrusts as she moaned, pressing herself against him and kissing whatever she could reach.

"Fuck Rachel," he whispered, realizing he wouldn't last much longer. "_Fuck_ Rache…" and he thanked god as she suddenly shattered against him. He pumped into her thrice more and climaxed himself, groaning her name (and possibly another couple expletives).

"Damn it all babe," he whispered as she cuddled into him, sighing happily. "That was _the shit_. You're amazing"

"So are you, you know," she told him, and continued when she heard his chuckle "I don't just mean that. Of course you're amazing in bed."

She could hear him smirk as he kissed her cheek. "You know it."

"I mean more than that though," she insisted. "You are smart and sweet and talented." She sighed when she felt him shake his head slightly. "You have so much potential Noah; you don't even know," she told him. "There's so much outside of McKinley, and it will embrace you if you let it."

She could feel his smile—a real one, genuine and soft—as he kissed her hair and fell back on the pillows. "One of these days," he murmured to her softly. "We'll get the hell out this goddamn town…do this shit all night, every night, and be rock stars during the day; everything will be good."

She lay in the dark and listened to him drift off. Normally she would rest as well, only to wake as she listened to him leave perhaps an hour or so later. Tonight, however, she was going to take Santana's advice and solve the mystery, if only to give herself peace of mind.

Rachel reached beneath her pillow, feeling her cell phone resting where she'd placed it earlier that night. Careful not to jostle the body next to her, she lifted the phone above her, turning it on to allow a soft glow, and pushed the camera button, listening to the soft _*click*_ as the picture was saved.

Noah grumbled, adjusting his arm to pull her closer, and she quickly replaced the phone beneath her. She shut her eyes and relaxed against the warm body behind her.

* * *

The next day was Wednesday. Rachel walked through the halls in a daze. She was lost in her own thoughts, as she had been since approximately 5 am this morning. Although, to be honest, her thoughts were as lost as she was.

She went to her English, Chemistry, and Spanish classes as usual, though not with her usual enthusiasm for learning. She thinks she may have even missed question 4 on her quiz, but she is too distracted to really think about it. As the bell signaling lunch sounds through the class, she stands and makes her way to the cafeteria.

A familiar hand reached out from the utility closet and pulled her inside. She allowed herself to be guided to the corner, as Noah caressed her arms and kissed her lips.

Puck had had a great morning. He'd gotten home a little later than usual from Berry's, but still before his ma had gotten up. His sister had gone out to breakfast with her soccer team, so he didn't have to get her to school, which allowed him an extra thirty minutes to get ready and gone. Plus he'd had a perfectly valid excuse to throw JewFro in the dumpster, which made him feel great since he'd wanted to do it since the creep'd tried to grope Berry in the hall Monday.

And now, after an easy day in History, a great workout in Gym, and an excellent nap in the nurse's office where Math should have been, he was pumped to get some time in a dark closet with his favorite addiction.

He pulled her into the closet, into his arms, and kissed her hungrily. He breathed her vanilla-strawberry scent and let his hands graze over every exposed inch of skin. He didn't even bother trying to deny himself of her anymore; it was just easier this way. Plus, goddamn, midget was so hot he didn't even really want to be without her.

He turned his attention to her earlobe; when she seemed quiet, he let go a moment and held her face in his hands. He couldn't see her, but Rachel Berry being quiet was never a good sign.

"Baby, you okay?" he asked her. He felt her head tilt up to look at him, and then she threw herself into his arms, pushing him against the far wall as she kissed him passionately. Just one more way things were perfect he thought, smiling at her enthusiasm.

The next moments happened almost too fast to register.

He felt one arm slide away from him, and then suddenly he was squinting, blinded by a sudden light. He looked to see Rachel staring at him in complete disbelief as she mouthed "Noah?" with wide eyes.

He looked at her in shock, backing away from her toward the door.

"How-?" he tried to ask, unable to get past the first word. She held up her phone, on the screen a darkened picture of him sleeping in her bed.

He backed up further, not stopping when he hit the door. He just kept going, pushing the it and moving out into the hallway.

Unfortunately, since it was lunch, it would be that more than enough students were roaming the hall and see him emerge, Rachel Berry following him with wide eyes. Students including Kurt, Mercedes, Santana, and…_Quinn_.

McKinley's Queen Bee glared at him, and he saw all of the pieces falling into place in her eyes. Those eyes then narrowed in small slits, and as the volume of the whispers magnified to the buzzing of the masses, he found himself running, slamming anyone into the lockers around them that got between him and the exit.


	9. Chapter 9

**A/N:** Okay, I appreciate reviews, but give me a little leeway guys. We all recognize that drugs are bad and what Puck does is kinda- if not really- skeezy, but in conjunction to the allegory it's based off of, this really isn't that much of a jump. Except I'm trying to make Puck a little redeemable.

As for the people that are questioning how she couldn't figure out it was Puck- I had to suspend reality for that one. There was really no way around it. So tell yourself what you need to- he took out his nipple ring when he was around her, he shaved his head, she was high on adrenaline and was oblivious- and just accept that it's never going to completely add up. Thanks.

* * *

Rachel couldn't believe how her world had turned inside out in the course of one lunch period. She had started her day being a relatively (okay completely) unpopular and inconsequential McKinley sophomore with a secret boyfriend that adored her. Granted, she had had no clue what said secret boyfriend looked like, but he was like heaven to her body and maybe her best friend. He was genuinely interested in her life and passions, and she him. Then, with one picture, one light, she'd managed to ruin all of it, lose everything in the shadow of horrible gossip and the revelation of Noah's identity.

When she had turned on the light in the closet, followed him into the hall, she couldn't believe that the beautiful soul she'd fallen in love with was the same bully that had thrown Jacob Ben-Israel in a dumpster just that morning (not that she didn't feel a teensy-bit vindicated, considering he'd tried to grope her just two days ago) and made lewd comments every time he saw her, provoking her at every interaction. But when she saw Noah run down the hall and out the door, she realized it didn't matter; she still wanted to drop everything and run after him, wrap her arms around him and tell him it would be okay.

Then he was gone, and everyone was staring and whispering, and thank god for Kurt, Mercedes, Tina, and Artie, who suddenly surrounded her and steered her to the choir room, closing the door. She was never more grateful than when they asked nothing, Tina and Mercedes just whispering softly and holding her hands while Kurt pulled out her brush to fix her slightly mussed hair.

_

* * *

_

_She lay in her bed, listening to the clock's **tic tic tic**, tossing and turning as her body protested being alone, her heart aching at what was missing. The moon was bright tonight, and the light seemed to mock her solitude._

_When she heard the scraping of the window, her breath caught in her throat, she was so hopeful. She turned and watched as Noah, clad in the same jeans, tee-shirt, and plain black mask he'd worn when they met, crawled in through her window. The light was behind him, and yet his eyes blinded her with their intensity. He approached her, standing next to the bed, staring down at her._

_She sat up, reaching towards him. "Noah," she whispered, almost crying in relief. "I'm so glad you're here. I thought—"_

_He took her in his arms, shushing her softly before placing his lips on hers. Rachel melted into his kiss, the kiss she thought she'd never feel again, and gave his tongue access to her mouth. His arms wound through her hair, around her petite body, pulling her closer to him as knelt next to her on the bed._

"_Don't even think about it," he told her, tracing his hands across her jaw. "You were right; none of it matters now."_

_She sighed in contentment as he kissed her again, his hand trailing down her torso and sliding off her shorts. He slid his finger over her clit, massaging it gently, smirking over how wet she was simply by his presence._

"_Noah," she breathed._

"_Rachel," his soft words buzzed in her ear, and the heat in her began to rise even more. She whimpered softly at the way her name sounded coming from him. "I've missed you. I can't—"_

_She smiled up at him, loving his eyes staring into hers, communicating the need she'd felt as much as she had without him. "Noah, please," she told him, arching into him slightly. "I want you inside me—I need you now."_

_Her permission was enough, and his jeans were shucked on the floor, releasing his stiff cock. He pulled a condom from nowhere and quickly slid it on, his arms draping her legs over his shoulders, continuing to stroke her center as he inserted himself into her._

_It was tighter than usual, but she'd missed him so much it may have been better that way. She couldn't stop moaning his name as his attempts to be gentle soon gave way to their need for increased speeds: she knew he wouldn't last as long, but she didn't think she would either. She was so close, and their eyes connected, chocolate and green, as he rubbed her clit and pounded into her, harder and faster, over and over._

_She felt his release and felt happy, safe as he rolled her onto him…_

_Suddenly, Rachel was standing in the hallway of McKinley High. She was surrounded by jocks, Cheerios, students she knew and didn't. She looked down and realized her outfit was covered in slushie, though she couldn't remember getting doused._

_And just a few feet away from her was Puck, angry and cruel. He was laughing with his jock friends, holding an empty cup. She instinctively knew he'd been the one to throw it at her. He'd humiliated her and began walking towards the cafeteria with the rest of the football team._

_Just before he'd passed her, however, they'd made eye contact, and Rachel saw it. Not Puck-Noah. The same look in his eyes when she'd confronted him, the same feeling she got when he spoke of his plans and getting out of Lima. She looked down again and saw a cell phone in her hand, a picture of him sleeping peacefully beside her in the dark._

Rachel awoke with a start. Weeks had passed since her and Noah—Puck—'s tryst had been discovered. Despite having Glee together, he refused to talk to her or even make eye contact, ignoring her attempts to get his attention. The rumors were already swirling about her being desperate, pathetic, and so on (as so many rumors did when any girl tried to hang on to him), but she didn't care. She knew that the Noah she had known was real, and she knew she loved him. This mess was all her fault—he'd asked her to trust him, so he could keep her and himself safe, and she'd blown it with her own insecurities. She realized she had to fix it somehow.


	10. Chapter 10

Rachel made her way down the hall during lunch, turning left into the small office. She wasn't really sure where to start, and figured the doe-eyed counselor was as good a place as any, especially since she was still unsure of what to say to her friends.

"Oh, hello Rachel," Ms. Pillsbury greeted her, finishing the final strokes in her desk-sanitizing routine. She carefully reached over her newly immaculate surface and squirted some antiseptic in her hands, rubbing them together furiously. "What can I do for you?"

"I was hoping you could give me some advice," Rachel began, feeling exponentially more foolish as the words came out of her mouth. Really? She actually thought the OCD school counselor could help? However, she was desperate, so she continued, "I recently became involved in an altercation with a…friend, and we are currently not on speaking terms."

The red-headed woman stared at her in puzzlement, but she babbled on. "However, I've come to realize I was at fault, and now wish very much to make amends, and was hoping you could offer some guidance on how best to approach him."

Rachel glanced up at Ms. Pillsbury, who finally seemed to catch on to what they were talking about. "Rachel," she asked sympathetically. "Is this about Puck?"

Rachel flinched slightly at the name, but shook her head. "This is about _Noah_," she clarified, not caring that the adult couldn't possibly appreciate the difference. She took a deep breath. "I just need to talk to him—apologize; but he won't even look at me."

Ms. Pillsbury looked down at her clean hands, then back at Rachel. "You know Rachel, from what I understand, I'm not so sure Puck is the type of boy you'd want to apologize to; perhaps it's for the best—"

As the counselor's wide Bambi eyes looked at the petite brunette's in pity, Rachel found herself tuning out the words. Even the school counselor thought of him as Puck, and it made her heart wrench for Noah.

_"I don't talk about this kinda shit to most people," he whispered to her._

_"Why not?" she asked. "It's not like I'm asking for a detailed five-year plan. Just what you want for yourself."_

_"And I told you—out of this goddamn place. If I can accomplish that, I'm ahead of what anybody thinks I'm capable of."_

_"That's not true. I think you're capable of more than just that."_

_"And you would be on a fucking short list of people who do. So my plan? It's enough for me."_

_She scoffed. "That's not much of a plan Noah. Don't you want anything beyond that? Maybe to be a singer in LA, or a college student in Miami—a bartender in Cleveland?"_

_He chuckled into her hair. "Book-smarts aren't really my thing, babe, and I'm not mega-talented like you," he replied. "I don't really have much of a knack for anything, so I guess I try not to think about it: set your standards low, and you'll always reach your expectations."_

_"There's always time to turn things around," she sighed, hugging him closer to her. "Dip into your potential. Always shoot for the moon Noah; even if you fail, you'll still land among the stars—think about it."_

The brunette rose in disappointment, realizing her confidante was all but useless, and turned to the door.

"Rachel, wait." The counselor stood and walked to her. "Perhaps you should ask one of his friends how to talk to him," she recommended. "Perhaps a girl in his clique—like maybe Quinn Fabray? She seems very nice." Ms. Pillsbury smiled kindly at Rachel, who faked one of her own as she thanked the woman and left the office.

Rachel scurried to her next class, trying to avoid all eye contact as she scoffed at the teacher's direction. _Quinn Fabray_, whom Rachel was sure already despised her, helping her to speak to Noah. Like that would ever be remotely possible. However, perhaps she may be right about speaking to someone in his social circle…

* * *

The next day Rachel spent lunch with Finn in the choir room. She'd been doing that a lot lately, bouncing back and forth between spending time with Mercedes, Kurt, Artie, and Tina, and Finn. He'd been so supportive, so friendly, as if he couldn't stand the fact she was hurting. She'd even heard the rumor that he'd rallied to her defense against some unflattering locker room talk concerning what she and Noah's relationship had involved.

Regrettably, when she brought up her desire to speak with his friend, Finn had been dead set against it.

"Rache," he'd told her. "You see him every day, and he hasn't said anything. With guys like him, that's usually a pretty clear sign, you know?"

She said nothing, but perked up slightly when he continued to himself, "Although it's kinda weird he hasn't said anything in the locker room…"

"He hasn't?" Rachel asked, to which Finn shook his head, still thinking out loud.

"Nah—the other guys ask, you know? And guess a lot of stuff; but he won't talk about it." He looked at her. "I guess I just assumed that meant you guys didn't…you know." He looked at her, tilting his head in curiosity. "Did you?"

"So maybe he's just concerned about what speaking to me will do to his reputation?" Rachel pushed, evading the question. Finn opened his mouth to contradict her, but she pressed, "Maybe you could convince him to meet me somewhere private so we could talk?" Her deep brown eyes grew wide as she looked up at him, pleading her case. "Please?"

Finn held her eyes for a moment, then sighed. "I don't think there's anything I could say to him to change his mind," he told her. "But maybe if you talked to Quinn—" He clarified at Rachel's incredulous look "You know, she's a girl, and _you're_ a girl, and she's kind of friends with Puck. I don't know; maybe she could give you some advice."

Rachel, seeing no other options, had finally given in, which explained how, Friday afternoon, Rachel waited outside the gym for the Captain of the Cheerios to emerge and talk to her. She watched as the team poured into the hallway, too dehydrated and exhausted to even notice her presence (which was probably for the better, considering her current situation). She glanced at every uniform, looking for the pristine blonde, but she didn't appear. Finally, five minutes after Coach Sylvester had left, she made up her mind and walked through the doors.

She heard a door slam, and found Quinn staring back in surprise, back braced up against the utility closet. When she realized who it was, the Cheerio smirked, looking back at the door behind her, and Rachel could hear the cogs of her mind as she got ready to deliver the insults.

"What are you doing here ManHands?" she sneered, walking towards the bleachers where her duffel sat. "Searching all of the closets at school in case there's someone else desperate enough to want you waiting in one?"

"I need to speak with him Quinn," Rachel stated, ignoring the hurtful words and the malicious grin that now adorned the other girl's face. "I know you aren't fond of me—"

"What's not to be fond of?" the Queen Bee replied, taking cold, calculating steps toward the Gleek. "The fact that you look like a transvestite and wear clothes that your blind grandmother probably chose? Or the fact that you've been putting the moves on my boyfriend since the day you met?"

"Finn is only a friend, and your boyfriend; and I have no intention in pursuing a romantic relationship with him," Rachel insisted.

"But you do with Puck?" Quinn sneered. She closed the space between them, leaving mere inches as she whispered, "A word to the wise, loser: _players_ don't have follow-up with the _played_. Not they're style."

Quinn gave a cruel chuckle and moved to get her things, but Rachel grabbed her arm. She ignored the murderous glare in her eyes and repeated, "I just need to speak with him."

Quinn snatched her arm back, appraising the petite thing in front of her.

"I can't guarantee anything," she finally said. "But maybe if you do me a favor, I could put in a good word."

"Name it," Rachel knew she should be careful about promising things to people like Quinn Fabray; but for Noah, _her_ Noah, she'd walk through fire.

Quinn smiled. "I'm having a little get together tomorrow night," she informed her. "Some close friends— the who's who of this school, you know," she gave Rachel a superior smile.

"I still have some shopping left to do," she continued, pulling out a paper from her backpack and handing it to Rachel. "If you can get me everything on this list before 5 o'clock tomorrow night, I'll see what I can do."

Rachel looked at the folded sheet in her hands, then back up at Quinn. "Thank you," she told her earnestly, turning and striding out into the hall.

She stood for a moment just outside the door, opening the paper to look inside. Her eyes went wide as she took in the words, but she pulled out her phone as she flew towards her car.

"Mercedes?" she said breathlessly as she started the engine. "Is Kurt with you? I need your help."

* * *

Quinn zipped her bag shut again, and hefted it onto her shoulder.

"That seemed kinda cruel," a voice spoke up from behind her as it emerged from the closet.

Quinn arched an eyebrow at Puck as he emerged from the closet. "Hey, I didn't say I would get you to talk to her; I just told her I'd see what I could do." She laughed. "Not my fault if I already know that the answer is nothing."

"You know she can't get your shit," he insisted.

"No shit Sherlock," she retorted. "Just one more reason I won't have to bother trying to explain to her that she's _a loser_ who got _played_."

"Whatever," he grumbled. He was miserable with guilt, and moreover hated listening to Quinn describe Rachel as a loser.

_"They don't matter," she'd said, once of many times. "They call us losers because they're afraid for themselves. They know that being who we are, even if we don't make it, we're already halfway there. And them? They aren't even out of the starting gate."_

He'd never really believed her.

"Hey," she called out as he started walking away. She strode up to him. "You owe me part of my money back." His eyes went wide at her demand. "I have to do major damage control for your mess, which wouldn't have happened if she'd ended up with Creepy Blogger Loser in the first place."

"Bullshit," he told her. "The money's already gone towards getting the hell outta this cow town."

She chuckled at him, closing the space between them. "Oh Puck—you really think you're going anywhere?" she patted his cheek, leaning close to whisper. "You were born a Lima loser, and you'll die a Lima loser; doomed to look back on these few years in high school as your peak."

And with a smile and twirl of her cheerleading skirt, she turned heel and walked out the door.


	11. Chapter 11

Rachel was pacing in her living room as Kurt, Mercedes, Artie, and Tina watched. Artie held in his hand the list that Quinn had given her earlier.

"There has to be a way," the brunette muttered to herself, spinning to walk back the way she'd just come.

"Honey, don't take this the wrong way," Kurt told her, looking at Mercedes. "But I don't think Quinn _wants_ to help you."

"Of course she doesn't want to help me," Rachel replied, reaching the end of the room and flipping back again. "That's why I have to do this; it's the only way she _will_."

"But Diva," Mercedes said, leaning forward to grab Rachel's hand as she passed them on the couch. "How can you possibly get—what does it say again Artie?"

"One handle of Zubrowka Bison Grass Vodka ; one of Bacardi 51; two handles of Jose Cuervo; three beer kegs; and eight cases of wine coolers," Artie recited, reading down the list.

"You couldn't even pass for eighteen," Kurt said matter-of-factly. "No chance for twenty-one."

"And there's not enough time to get hold of a fake ID," Tina added.

"Plus how would we get all that booze in less than twenty-four hours?" Mercedes finished.

Rachel shook her head stubbornly. "There's _got_ to be a way!" she insisted, beginning to pace again. "How do the jocks normally get their alcohol?" she asked aloud.

Kurt scoffed. "Begging, bribery, and burglary," he answered. "And none of it on the same level as any of this stuff."

"I researched prices online," Rachel rambled on. "I have the money; I just need to find the means of acquiring it."

"Really Rachel," Artie asked. "Is Puck even worth risking this? Worth wasting your time on doing something for Quinn when she probably has nothing to offer?"

_The rain pattered on the window, and he held her close as she tried to regain her composure. The hockey players had pulled a triple whammy: slushying her in the morning,, "accidentally" spilling their cafeteria sludge on her notes and sheet music during lunch, and vandalizing her locker sometime between the end of school and the end of Glee practice. She hadn't let them see it affect her, of course, but ever since she got home and cleaned out her backpack, she'd been somewhat disheartened.  
_

"_Someday I'll be far away from all of this, giving a speech for my fifth Tony, and those Neanderthals will be scraping gum off of the bottom of desks," she mumbled as he combed his fingers through her hair._

"_I swear I'll kick their asses," he'd muttered furiously. _

_She shook her head, still buried in his chest. "They're not worth it," she'd told him._

_The silence went on as she listened to him breathing. "I'll bet your last relationship wasn't this tricky." She sighed, smiling sadly. "Maybe it would have been easier for both of us if I hadn't gone to that party."_

_He paused for a moment, then shook his head as he hugged her tight. "Maybe; but as lame as it sounds, I think I'd miss you even if we'd never met."_

She hadn't connected the dots at the time, but the next day she'd heard from someone in her Biology class Puck had gotten into a fight with three of those in the offending party, "just because they'd looked at him wrong."

Rachel stopped pacing and faced her friends. "I don't expect anything more than to talk to him," she told them with complete sincerity. "But I know I need that, and anything I can do to make that happen, I have to."

They sat (and stood) in silence for a moment, taking in the statement. She wondered if her friends could possibly understand how important this was, how much she needed to make this right with him. It had nothing to do with the sex, or getting him back; it was making sure that he didn't stop being Noah just because she had been an idiot.

"I think I have an idea," Tina said, causing everyone to look at her.

* * *

Quinn Fabray was directing the kegs in her backyard. She only had two due to stupid Karofsky not coming through, and so she had to make them last by spacing them out. Her eyes widened in surprise and confusion when she heard the doorbell ring and Brittany calling out that the Drinking Fairy had arrived.

She walked to the door and stared out at the driveway, desperately trying to keep her jaw from hitting the ground. Parked in the driveway was a handicap van, and out of it Matt and Mike were unloading kegs, liquor, and wine coolers. She couldn't count from here, but judging from the triumphant look on ManHands' face, she was willing to bet that the entire list was present and accounted for.

She strode to the van, listening as Matt and Mike congratulated her on her mad skills.

"Yeah, we thought we were going to be short," Mike told her, pulling out a handle of tequila. "But this is gonna be awesome!"

"Yeah, totally kick ass Berry!" Matt told her, grabbing one end of a keg as he rolled it from the van to the dolly.

Quinn shook her head in disbelief. "No way," she said. "How could _you_ possibly—?"

Rachel just smiled. She wasn't going to tell Quinn that Tina had called in a _huge_ favor from her aunts who worked in a wholesale store out in Dayton and borrowed Artie's family's van in order to drive up there, purchase, and transport said alcohol just this morning in order to arrive at 4:30 pm at Quinn Fabray's door.

"That was the terms of our agreement, wasn't it?" She asked instead, watching as the Brittany gave directions to the boys making their way through the door. "I brought the list in case you wanted to check."

Quinn wanted to scream at being bested by damn Rachel Berry, but she instead maintained her cool and slapped on a smile. "No need," she assured the brunette. "I'm sure it's all there."

"In fact," she continued, a new plan developing as she spoke. "Why don't you stop by tonight? Maybe we can work on wearing Puck down while he's here."

Rachel felt an uneasy twinge. "I don't want to impose…" she stalled, trying to find sensible grounds for refusal.

"Nonsense," Quinn argued. "You covered most of the costs; you should be here. Plus, it'll be fun."

Rachel, seeing no polite way out, reluctantly agreed to return in five hours after being assured that the rest of Glee Club would be there as well ("Of course," Quinn had said. "We're all friends, aren't we?)

* * *

And so, at 9:30 pm, Rachel approached the Fabray household wearing dark jeans and a simple pink tank with lace bordering across the v-neck.

She felt out of place, saw the mocking stares and not-so-quiet whispers of those who bothered to pay her any mind. She easily noticed the difference between this party and the last she'd attended, and found herself wishing desperately for her mask again. She saw no sign of the other Glee members, and so she instead weaved through the party searching for Quinn or (she hoped) Noah.

Suddenly she felt someone tap her. She looked up into the face of Finn and smiled in relief that she was friends with at least one person there.

"Rachel!" he exclaimed in surprise. "What are you doing here?"

Rachel smiled at her friend. "Quinn invited me to tonight's gathering to aid me in my attempt to confront and communicate with Noah, for which I was so grateful I offered to contribute to her supply of beverages." It wasn't exactly true, but she didn't wish to speak ill of the blonde to her friend, so she stuck with the skewed version.

"That's great Rache!" Finn replied, looking unsure of seventy-five percent of the words that had come out of her mouth. "I'm glad she could help you more than me," Finn admitted, leading her toward the kegs.

As the night wore on, Rachel stayed close to Finn, hoping that he would lead her to his girlfriend at the very least. She found it strange that the blonde was nowhere in sight however, especially since her boyfriend seemed easily visible as he towered over the others.

And then she saw him. Sure, he was acting like before, like Puck, as he did a keg stand and pushed around the other jocks, but she saw her Noah, and when he turned, laughing, he locked eyes with hers and she offered a tentative smile as she took a step toward him.

Suddenly a tape recorder was shoved into her face and her view was blocked by none other than Jacob Ben-Israel.

"Rachel Berry," he said loudly. "Is it true that you've been stalking Noah Puckerman in an attempt to bolster your own popularity? That you in fact crashed this party in order to be seen in the same vicinity as him and add substance to the aforementioned allegations?"

"What? No!" Rachel blushed furiously and tried to back up, but suddenly the room was very crowded, as half the room was standing engrossed by the drama, and the other half was arguing how two losers had made it into the party in the first place.

Rachel watched as Azimio roughly grabbed Jacob by the shoulders, informing him, "Freak, you must've misread the invite—it said you're welcome to the Fabray's dumpster, not their house." With wide eyes she watched as, cheering loudly, they hauled him toward the trash cans out back.

She looked desperately back to where Noah had been, but he was gone; had disappeared once again rather than speak to her. When she turned back to the many faces still glaring at hers, she realized she was undoubtedly next.

When a hand grabbed her shoulder, she jumped in fear. Her heart rate slowed to a more level pace when she saw it was Finn, reacting quickly to move her out of the area before the crowd could decide what to do with her.

As they made their way to the street, however, she felt her eyes brimming with tears. She hadn't paid much attention to the specifics of what people whispered, and now she was glad for it.

"Is that really what people are saying?" she asked softly. Finn didn't respond, just hugged her close and steered her to her car. He drove her home and stayed with her until she finished her glass of water and insisted she was fine. After an awkward pause he moved to leave, reassuring her that he could walk home no sweat.

Under normal circumstances, she would have asked him to stay, played the role of dutiful hostess as she was taught by her fathers; tonight, however, she just wanted to sleep and forget.


	12. Chapter 12

_Puck felt like shit as he walked through the doors of McKinley. How did a hangover last two days? And yet his head was the least of his worries. It was the dull ache that radiated throughout his body, the feeling that had blown through him at full force when he saw Rachel at the party, realized what she'd done, what she was doing, just to talk to him. And he couldn't bring himself to give her the time of day. _

_He felt like such a schmuck, and it was only heightened when he'd watched Finn whisk her to safety; it should've been _**him**_ to do that._

_Somehow he found his way into the auditorium, sitting in the back row in the cool and quiet. It was comfortable, and it reminded him of Rachel. Under normal circumstances this was something he avoided; but now, with his body throbbing, it seemed okay._

_Of course, such peace was never meant to last, and he heard the shuffling of a body onto the stage. He heard the flitting on the piano and didn't even have to look to know who was there. Go fucking figure._

_The song she played seemed kind of soothing (for a rock song, at least) until he realized he recognized the lyrics. _

"_Will you listen to my story?" she opened, the raw emotion all but killing him._

_It'll just be a minute_

_How can I explain?_

_What ever happened here _

_Never meant to hurt you _

_How could I cause you so much pain?_

_Puck couldn't take it anymore, especially knowing that she was taking the blame for something that was completely his fault. He stood and made his way to the stage. _

"**All the words that I come up with,**_" His bari-tenor filled the room, expressing the guilt he'd pent up since this mess had started._

**They're like gasoline on flames**

**There's no excuse**

**No explanation**

**Believe me**

**If I could I'd undo what I did wrong**

**I'd give away all that I own… **

_When their voices melded together for the chorus, Puck couldn't help but note how they sounded—rich, awesome, and way better than her and Finn. It just sucked that the circumstances that brought them together were this shitty._

**_When I say I'm sorry_**

**_Will you believe me?_**

**_Listen to my story_**

**_Say you wont leave me_**

**_When I say I'm sorry_**

**_Can you forgive me?_**

**_When I say I'll always be there_**

**_Will you believe_**

**_Will you believe me?_**

_She remained still on the piano after her fingers finished their work. Unable to stand being away from her any longer, he took her into his arms and held her close, pulling her tighter against him when he realized she was now crying._

_ "I'm so sorry," she sniffled into his shirt. "I've ruined everything."_

_ " Fuck Rache—it's my fault," he told her. "You couldnt've known." He wanted to tell her everything, knew he should; but he was too afraid of her hating him._

_ She shook her head as she buried her face further into his chest. Puck wasn't particularly fond of being exposed the way they were, so he took her hand and led her to the prop closet just off stage, turning on the light and sitting them on a white bench against the wall._

_ He held her for awhile, saying nothing; just rubbing small circles against her back as she tried to regulate her breathing. _

_ He was surprised when she looked up at him, giggling softly. "This seems familiar. I think one of us may have an affinity for tight storage spaces."_

_ He chuckled with her, mussing her hair a little. He was grateful she'd stopped crying; and more grateful still that he was holding her again._

_ "I don't suppose things can ever go back to how they were though," she whispered, her head resting on his chest again._

_ Puck sighed dejectedly. "Probably not," he agreed. "People'd talk shit for the rest of our lives. Plus," he added in a voice barely audible. "You deserve better than some Lima loser."_

_ Rachel may have opened her mouth to argue the first point, but at the second, her head snapped up, her eyes wide as she locked with his. "Noah Puckerman," she said harshly, and Puck didn't miss the slight relish in her voice at saying his full name. "You are _**not **_a Lima loser." _

_ "No, babe—_**you're**_ not a Lima loser. You're going to get the hell out of here and go set New York on fire. Me? I'll be lucky if I graduate high school." _

_ Rachel pushed him away to sit up on her knees, raising herself eye-level to him. "You have all the promise in the world, Noah. You just need to apply yourself. Get the hell out of this closet, out of this school, figure out what you want and go get it!"_

_ Puck stared at her in awe, too turned on by her swearing to comment on the advice itself._

_ He suddenly flashed back to them in her bed, to the words she'd told him so many times: _**"You have so much potential Noah; you don't even know. There's so much outside of McKinley, and it will embrace you if you let it."**

_ She really believed in him, even now that she knew who he was. It was weird knowing that meant so much to him._

_And then his mind was pulled back on that bench with her, watching her chocolate eyes darken with desire._

_ "Kiss me," she commanded, and he eagerly complied, reaching out to flip the switch._

_ "No," she told him, grabbing his hand. "Leave it on; I need to see you."_

_ Honestly, Puck couldn't remember having sex with the lights on since…okay, he really couldn't _**ever**_ remember having sex with the lights on. Especially in the last year or so, when he started working his mojo for a fee, it was important that he kept his chicks __in the dark__ (bo__th literally and figuratively). The light made him feel exposed, especially as he recalled his past, his reputation. Here in the light he felt people (mainly Rachel) would see him for what he was: a delinquent man-whore that was going nowhere. _

_ But with Rachel, it surprisingly felt…_**right**_. He couldn't take his eyes off her as she kissed along his collarbone, gripping his arms, slowly unbuttoning his shirt. Her hair was glossier in the light, and her skin practically glowed. Her eyes penetrated his, and he could see everything she seemed to see in him: his capability; his worth. She kissed his nipples, biting them gently, and moved her tongue along his torso, tracing patterns down his midline._

_ He couldn't stop watching her, his heart beating wildly in his chest. His cock was equally impressed, fighting against the confines of his jeans. As she pushed him back against the bench and all but ripped off his jeans, his mind flashed back again to the first night, and he gasped as she locked eyes with him, confirming that he was watching her before she peeled off her shirt and reached around to unclasp and slip out of her pink lace bra. His eyes widened as she leaned her naked chest forward, grinding his erection between her breasts. Her chocolate eyes burned with lust as she pressed her tits together, massaging the nipples with her thumbs as she smothered him between them. She then offered him a sultry grin as she slid further downwards, her lips now on his tip, placing a small kiss on the head of his dick and licking the slit in his flesh as she traced her way down to his balls._

_ Never breaking eye contact, she took him in her mouth completely, swirling her tongue around his erection as she surrounded him. He felt the back of her throat, felt his cock vibrate as she groaned in pleasure, and couldn't help but lean back and let his head drop behind him against the wall._

_ Suddenly she was back on his lap, their eyes level. "Noah, look at me," she whispered urgently._

_ He groaned and pulled her roughly into a kiss. When they pulled apart, he took in her face, flushed and bright, those chocolate eyes boring into his with an intensity to match the one pulsing through him. He slid his hand under her skirt and grasped the waistline of her panties, rubbing his thumb along her hip beneath the elastic before pulling them off._

_He trailed his fingers up the insides of her thighs, pinching along the artery and causing her breath to hitch. Their eyes remained fixed as his thumb flicked her clit, progressing to deliberate strokes. He slipped a finger inside of her and kissed her as she opened her mouth to gasp. _

_ She clasped her arms around his neck, moaning as she buried her head in chest and raked her fingernails down his back as added another finger into her pussy and drove against her again and again._

_ "Noah," she moaned into his skin. "God, Noah, yes…"_

_ He used his free hand and cupped her jaw with his fingers, lifting her face toward his. "Look at me," he whispered her words back to her. She nodded, panting softly as he removed his fingers and plunged his cock deep inside of her._

_ Her eyes widened, and her lips clasped tight to hold back something he guessed would have been loud. He couldn't look away from her—as the light captured her face, her body. _

_"You're beautiful," he murmured into her ear, heart racing when he felt her shiver at his touch. "Don't hold back. I wanna hear you."_

_ She nodded, eyes locked into his and he could hear her building as he began pumping into her._

_ "Noah—my god, Noah—Noah!"_

Puck's eyes flew open and a groan escaped his lips as he regained his bearings, feeling like an idiot when he found himself in a position he'd not been in since his voice first cracked. One look at the clock told him it was Sunday, and not quite one in the afternoon. Laying in bed, he managed to dredge up the memories of the previous night and cursed himself for being such a prick.

As he made his way into the shower, throwing his sheets and boxers in the wash and starting the load before his ma would notice, he swore to himself to find a way to flush this shit out of his system so he could see Berry the way he used to and stop giving a shit whether she was hurting or what the fuck she thought about fuck-all. As he cleaned himself off, however, he couldn't stop his subconscious from its last observation.

_ Dream was right on one count: she's way too fucking good for you anyways._

* * *

**A/N**: Song was _Sorry_ by Daughtry


	13. Chapter 13

Rachel stood staring at Quinn as she casually investigated her cuticles in the choir room. Glee rehearsal had ended, and once again the petite brunette had watched Noah walk out of the room as quickly as he could manage, desperate to avoid her. So she'd asked Quinn to hang around for a few minutes.

"I thought you said you'd help me," she spoke up, finally realizing the Cheerio wasn't going to.

"I said I'd see what I could do," she corrected. "I brought you to the party; I brought _Puck_ to the party—really RuPaul, there's only so much I can do. It's not my fault you decided to cling to _my boyfriend_ the whole night."

"I was looking for you!" Rachel insisted, resisting the urge to stomp her foot. "And as I knew no one else—since for _some reason_ none of the other members of Glee received their invitation—I decided waiting for you to appear would be easier if I stayed near someone you were almost certain to approach. I thought you were going to be available to help me at the party, or I would have insisted on a more private venue to try to speak to him." She sighed in exasperation. "Quinn, you knew he wouldn't talk to me somewhere where all of his school friends would be."

Quinn adjusted her expression so it appeared more sympathetic. "I suppose that's true." She put her finger to her mouth in a thoughtful expression, trying to suppress a wicked desire to laugh. _God_, this was fun. "I guess I could try to pull some strings, put you two in a more—what'd you call it?—_private venue_." She smirked at the words. "Of course, I'd need a favor in return for such an endeavor."

"Another one?" Rachel challenged. "You didn't even follow through after the last favor I did for you."

Quinn's arched her eyebrows. "I suppose you're right," she replied, and Rachel relaxed a bit, thinking maybe she'd get a fair shake out of this after all. Then the other shoe dropped. "Perhaps you should try asking for someone else's help, since _I'm_ so useless."

Rachel knew she was trapped: Finn, Mike, and Matt couldn't help her; Santana wouldn't (she seemed to see the whole situation as an imposition of her territory); Brittany would be useless; and no one else in Noah's circle would speak to her. She was stuck with Quinn, and so she did her best to maintain a straight face, resisting the urge to punch the Cheerio's smug face. "No," she countered before the blonde could leave. "Just…what do you need?"

Quinn smiled happily and gave Rachel her instructions, watching as she listened, nodded, and made her way out the door.

* * *

Quinn didn't even turn to look when the door opened not a moment after the brunette had left. "This is actually becoming quite amusing," she told the brooding figure staring at her.

"Why are you doing this to her?" Puck asked. "Even if she does what you want, you're not going to help her."

"So?" she scoffed. "_I'm_ not the one refusing talk to her."

"Yeah, well, what if I _did_ want to talk to her?" Puck retorted. He watched as Quinn's eyes widened in disbelief.

"Do you?" She asked mockingly. "Because if you think the gossip, the torment she has to endure now is bad because you _won't_ talk to her, imagine how it _could_ be if _someone_ mentioned that the two of you were still rendezvousing around the school—that she was that easy?"

Puck scowled at the blonde, knowing that she could easily carry out the thinly-veiled threat, tarnishing the poor girl's reputation for the rest of her high school career.

"So, like I said," Quinn repeated in triumph at his silence. "It's not like I'm the one refusing to talk to her."

"But you _are_ the one leading her on, pretending that if she does all this shit for you, _I_ will."

"I deserve some fun, considering I'm the one rectifying this nightmare you've created." She turned around, looking up at him. "Seriously; do you know how much effort I had to put into going through the proper channels so that curly-haired freak showed up to my party without him or anyone else knowing _I_ was the one that invited him?"

Puck stared at her in amazement; how did he never notice what a crazy manipulative bitch this girl was?

"Fuckin' skeezy, is all," she heard him mumble, and she went off on him.

"Then maybe you should've stuck to the plan! Maybe you should've just handed her to Jew Fro like you were supposed to, instead of deciding to keep her around like some freak sex slave!"

She was right in his face now. "And to get_ caught_ on top of that? Now she and Finn are closer than ever! I should make you pay me back every dime!"

His face turned red as she spoke, thinking about the fact that she was right: that Finn got to spend all the time _he_ used to with Rachel, comforting her about _him_. It pissed him off, that he no longer had any right to her, and yet his best friend was allowed to hug her tight tiny body with his awkward scrawny arms… Then all of the sudden he found he was screaming right back at her. "Fuck that Fabray! The deal was to get Berry away from Finn, and I did that. You heard her—she has no interest in going after your boy; not my fault if he can't help but chase her around like a fucking wide-eyed puppy."

She all but screamed in frustration at him, her face becoming red and her breathing ragged. She wasn't sure when his had become equally uneven. They were almost touching, and her eyes darted to his eyes, down to his mouth.

She reached out and pulled him towards her, crushing her lips against his. He responded eagerly, furiously, as if he'd been waiting for months. He pushed her against the wall and knotted his hand in her hair, pulling back to expose her neck. He kissed and bit and sucked hungrily, desperate for relief.

Puck grabbed every part of Quinn he could reach. He could feel it: this would be his saving grace, would finally clean Rachel Fucking Berry from his system. He could feel all of the guilt and frustration and _give-a-shit_ flowing out of him as he cupped the Cheerio's ass, pulling her closer to grind against her. He was Puckzilla, Puckasaurus Rex, goddamn it, and he was going to conquer all of McKinley and Lima ten times over now that he was himself again.

There was a noise from Mr. Schue's office, and he found himself forcefully shoved behind the piano.

Puck and Quinn peaked out, watching as the janitor shuffle around, emptying out the garbage. He couldn't help but bristle as he heard her sigh in relief and reach back for him.

"Fuck this shit," he snapped, pushing her away. He couldn't even really remember why it'd been so important to have her. "Just fuck it." With that, he walked out the door, leaving a bewildered Quinn behind him.


	14. Chapter 14

Rachel sat on her bed, pondering over her latest trial. She remembered perfectly seeing the spiteful glint in Quinn's eyes as she issued it.

"_Nationals are coming up, and, as Captain, it's important I be at my best in order to inspire my team to be at theirs. To do that, there's something I need._

_ "In Coach Sylvester's office, there's a set of pom poms her Cheerio Captain used for her very first National win. They even have her initials inscribed on the handles. They're legendary, and it's said that the essence of perfection is still in those poms."_

_ The blonde's eyes flashed with ambition. "I need those pom poms to be the best. And you are going to get them for me."_

_ "How do you expect _**me**_ to obtain them?" Rachel asked incredulously._

_ "Really, Berry," Quinn replied with a smile. "All you have to do is open the trophy cabinet and get them."_

Rachel had left after that; there was nothing left to say, after all. She felt like an imbecile for agreeing to do it at all. It couldn't possibly be as easy as Quinn made it sound, and if she got caught, she'd surely be torn apart by one Sue Sylvester, or worse: suspended. A part of her wondered why she was bothering to go through all of this for only the slimmest fraction of a chance of achieving her goal.

"_They're holding auditions in two weeks for the Community Center's summer production of_ Les Miserables_," she told him excitedly. "I'm auditioning for Cosette." _

"_Fifty bucks says you get it easy," he told her, squeezing her shoulders.  
_

_She looked back at his darkened figure. "I bet you would make a wonderful Marius." She softly sang the first lines of "Everyday" as she traced her fingers up and down his arm.  
Noah only shrugged, and she sighed. "Well, do you at least promise to come watch me perform?"_

_He kissed her gently, saying, "As long as you want me there, babe, I'll be at every show from this closet to Broadway."_

She had to do this. For Noah.

* * *

She followed the current of McKinley students during lunch with determination. Everybody knew that Coach Sylvester would be eating in the teacher's lounge, so Rachel figured this had to be her best opportunity.

And then a set of hands grabbed her and pulled her into an empty classroom.

Her first thought, ironically, was why students at McKinley experienced such an urge for secrecy that they felt the need to put others at risk by jerking their arms out of their sockets as they dragged them into empty spaces from crowded hallways. Her second was surprise at the owner of the arms.

"Mike?" she said, looking up at the jock and fellow Glee-mate. Though the quiet Asian was nice enough to her, she certainly never imagined him pulling her into a classroom for a conversation.

"Is it true?" he asked her incredulously. "Are you really going to try to steal a set of pom poms from Sylvester's trophy cabinet?"

"How did you—?" Rachel started. Only two people knew about Quinn's challenge, and she'd said nothing, and couldn't imagine Quinn telling anyone she talked to Rachel Berry. However, before she could finish her sentence, Mike interjected.

"You really are," he stared at her for a moment with something of a mix of shock and admiration. "Berry, you're insane."

The brunette wasn't certain what to make of his comment. "Well, thank you for your insight," she replied, straightening herself and taking a step toward the door. "But I must be going before lunch ends—"

"You can't steal them," Mike cut her off again, once again placing himself between her and the door. "I've heard Brit and Santana talk about them—Sue's crazy about those things. There's a key to that case; plus a heat sensor alarm and electric wiring attached to the frame. There's no way."

Rachel's eyes went wide as she listened to him describe her suicide mission, but she took another step and reached out to push past him. "As much as I appreciate your concern Mike," she insisted. "It is necessary that I procure those poms."

She had almost reached the handle when she heard his voice behind her. "Those particular poms, or just any used by that Cheerio?" he asked.

Rachel stopped, pivoting around to face Mike, who was now twirling a set of keys in his fingers.

He watched as she stepped back towards him, and he smiled as if she'd renewed his confidence in choosing to help her.

"Take these keys," he told her, pressing them into her small hands. "Don't go until after school, during Cheerio's practice. Sue won't leave the gym for at least three hours. The keys will open a cabinet behind her desk, and inside you'll find a back-up set of pom poms that what's-her-face had." He smiled comfortingly at her. "Same inscription and everything: Fabray won't know the difference. Put a spare set of poms from the supply closet in the corner, and Coach Sylvester will never miss them."

"How do you know all of this?" Rachel asked him.

He smiled. "You'd be surprised what Brit knows because people think she's too stupid to pay attention."

Rachel blushed slightly, realizing she herself had on more than one occasion treated Brittany as if she were a simpleton that didn't understand what went on around her. She looked up in time to see her co-conspirator headed for the door to slip back into the stream of students.

"Mike," the brunette called out, waiting for him to stop. She shook her head slightly in confusion. "Not that I'm not immensely grateful, but why are you helping me?"

Mike paused a moment. "Because," he replied shrugging. "Friends don't want to see their friends hurting, I guess."

Rachel watched him disappear out the door, back into the crowd. She was surprised: while she considered Mike somewhat of a friend, she'd never thought he would go out of his way to do something like this for her. Then, as she stared down at the keys in her hand, she realized that maybe it wasn't just _her_ hurt he had wanted to help with.

* * *

"Cut the track!" Sue Sylvester's voice boomed from the front of the gymnasium. "Shoddy performance! You think working a full-up to stretch to cradle-down is hard? I had to supervise geriatric priapism patients for four hours—that's hard!" She looked at her team in disgust. "Hit the showers!" she shouted, adding "I don't want any more of your defective sweat tainting my uniforms."

"Q!" Quinn stopped in her tracks, turning back to face the blonde dictator. "You seem distracted—everything okay?"

Everything was _not _okay; Finn was spending time with stupid ManHands, Puck was suddenly giving a shit about people (like stupid ManHands), and some dweeb in her math class had the gall to ask to borrow a pencil. _From her_. Her whole damn world was turning upside down. "Actually Coach—" she started.

"That was a rhetorical question Fabray," Sue interrupted. "I don't actually give two hoots about how your insignificant life is. What I do care about is why my Head Cheerio was a sixteenth of a count late on her fourth consecutive back handspring right before my wolf wall. Pull that kind of second-rate effort on my floor again and I'll put you on the bottom of the pyramid and reconsider keeping you on as Captain." She paused for a moment, and Quinn debated whether she should say something.

"Now head to the lockers: your mediocrity is clogging my pores," she dismissed, walking off to yell at the janitors about the brand of wax they used on her floors.

So now Quinn was really pissed. Since when had things not gone her way? She'd been Queen Bee of this place since the old Captain Natalie Harden transferred schools Quinn's freshman year, and no way in hell was she going to let that change.

Of course, who would be waiting for her outside of the locker room but the freak herself: Rachel Berry.

"Good afternoon Quinn," the brunette greeted her. This was met by Quinn's menacing snarl, which she seemingly ignored. "I hope your practice went well."

"Unless you've got the goods, loser, I've got nothing to say to you," the blonde spat.

If possible, the girl grinned wider. "Your key to divinity," she replied, handing her a bag. Quinn looked inside and gasped, leading Rachel off to the side to investigate the contents properly.

"LS— Lynn Silva," she gasped, examining the poms in her hand. "The first Cheerio Captain under Sue's leadership to take Nationals." Her head snapped up when she realized who she was standing with. "How did you get them with Coach Sylvester knowing?"

"I put in a replacement set," the other girl supplied, choosing not to embellish the details of her catch. "I don't believe she'll find out."

Quinn couldn't believe it—yes she had the poms; but that Rachel Berry was the one to give them to her? Damn her!

"Well," Quinn said slowly. "I suppose I can try to talk to Puck for you, but it's not a guarantee."

Rachel's eyes narrowed. "Can I do anything for you in the meantime?" she replied. "Do you want some fresh mountain water from a stream guarded by snakes?" She locked onto the popular girl's eyes, a hint of fury glowing in her own. "You're never going to help me, are you?" she asked.

"Did you ever really think I was?" Quinn dropped her act, smiling viciously. "Really Man Hands; people like Puck don't want to associate with people like _you_. You're a loser: stuck at the bottom rung of this school like gum. I would have thought that all of those slushie facials and graffiti in the bathroom would have made you realize that by now."

Rachel didn't know what to say—she had known Quinn was a long shot from the start, and now all of her efforts were…worthless.

Quinn's grin grew at the brunette's speechlessness as she turned to leave, calling over her shoulder, "Bye RuPaul, and thanks for the pom poms."

* * *

**A/N:** So yeah, I suck at Sue dialogue; but the priapism joke made me giggle, so I used it anyways.

**Other A/N:** For those of you severely disliking Puck, I hope the flashbacks are helping a little; I didn't mean to make it seem like it was all about sex- it's just more fun to write smut than deep conversation.


	15. Chapter 15

Puck strolled down the halls of McKinley on his way to Gym. He hadn't dreamt about Berry in days, and God was he grateful for it. He was a little surprised that he felt so over Quinn and the fact that she wouldn't give him the time of day and latched onto Finn with a new vigor didn't bother him, but fuck it. He was ready to get some action, to stop thinking about anything but instant gratification and go back to being the supreme badass sex stud that he was.

He started appraising chicks as he passed them, sighing in contentment as he did so: hot redhead chick; leggy Asian chick; fugly brunette with a nice rack; average chick rocking the sexy librarian look; blonde Cheerio with a tight ass—

Puck stopped in his tracks, doing a double take at the Cheerio he'd just passed. He recognized the bouncing blonde ringlets (and more importantly the nice ass). It was Annie, or Allie, or Amy—whatever, it was the chick he'd dosed into a hook-up with Azimio. So why the hell was she walking down the hall, gazing adoringly at Chaz Stephens from the basketball team?

The Puckerone was nothing if not thorough in his need to quench his curiosity, so he casually sat by Chaz in the locker room after their workout, sliding back into the laughing and joking and all of the normal shit for the first time in weeks.

"So Chaz man," he subtly segued after discussing what chicks dug more, guns or abs (Puck's opinion—guns, no question). "I've seen your guns carrying around that Cheerio with that bitchin' ass- Amy or something?"

The sandy-haired boy grinned. "Abby, and hell yeah. Girl's got it going on in _all_ the right places. Plus she's a Cheerio, so yeah—damn flexible."

Puck smiled and grinned and bumped fists with the guys. "But dude," he pressed, still keeping his voice casual. "Wasn't she with like Azimio or some shit?"

Chaz shrugged his shoulders. "Yeah, for like three weeks. Then they broke up and she just couldn't resist _this_." He gestured to his naked chest, grinning and high-fiving the guys again.

Puck laughed with the rest of them, but inside his head was spinning. They broke up? After just three weeks? He shook his head as he walked out of the locker room: maybe the oaf had broken up with her and the chick was just using Stephens to try to make Azimio jealous?

He wandered to math class lost in thought (okay,_ a lot_ lost in thought if he was actually going to math class). Granted, he'd only used his CA maybe a dozen times, but he'd never heard of any of the girls moving on, much less moving on so quickly.

He shook his head. To be fair, with the exception of Quinn, he'd never actually checked up on any of the girls he'd dosed. He did a quick count in his head, trying to recall them and the guys he'd set them up with. The ones he could think of off the top of his head (average emo chick with a baseball junior his freshman year; athletic soccer chick with a football buddy his freshman year; double-d Cheerio with a water polo player at the beginning of his sophomore year; and Quinn of course) were still with the guys he hooked them up with. Maybe this blonde was immune or something.

By the time the lunch bell rang, Puck was about ready to write this chick off as a fluke. When he strode by the choir room, however, Puck did his second double take of the day—freezing, mouth agape as he watched Santana and Brittany in the sexiest make-out session he'd maybe ever seen in his life.

He didn't stop staring when they broke apart; really, he didn't stop staring until San was in his face. "Seriously Puck?" she scoffed. "I should make you pay if you're going to stare like that." She called behind her, "Save you a seat B," with a smile and started walking to the cafeteria.

He shook himself back to life and ran after her, catching up within a couple steps and grabbing her arm. "Lopez, wait up," he called. Dude, what the hell was going on?

"Puck, I'm not inviting you to a threesome, and I'm not going to let you watch," Santana told him, jerking her hand back and moving toward the cafeteria once more.

"But I thought you were with Rutherford," He argued, growing more confused (though he did leave a little room in his mind to be disappointed she wouldn't even consider the threesome- hey, he's a guy).

She looked at him incredulously. "Really Puck?" she asked. "Where were you when I was over Matt?" She shrugged indifferently. "Shit ended months ago. Not that he's not a nice enough guy, and decent in bed; but you know me Puck," she winked. "Never really one to settle." And with that, the Latina turned heel and finished her trek to the cafeteria.

Puck took a moment to appreciate her bouncing skirt, and then refocused his mind on the mystery at hand. With Santana definitely over Matt, he now had two girls that were over his stash and onto greener pastures.

Puck decided that the rest of the school day wasn't really worth his time and headed out to his truck. His dad had never mentioned Cupid's Arrow having an expiration date on it, but if it did it would explain all the recent doses as duds—but then why the hell would he be having it so bad for Berry? Maybe it was psycho-semitic or whatever: all in his head. He knew he had one more stop to check before fully freaking out.

* * *

He sat in his truck outside a blue house with yellow trim. He saw the white Prius in the driveway, and was now trying to figure out the best way to go about this. After about a minute's hesitation, he decided straightforward Puckzilla was his best bet.

He strode to the door and rang the bell. A raven-haired cougar in a barely-there bikini opened the door and smiled at him.

"Hey," he said, keeping his voice low and rough. "Just passing through; haven't seen you in a while, so I thought I'd stop by, see if there was any…work you needed taken care of." He gave a classic Puckerman smirk and arched an eyebrow suggestively.

Cheryl smiled back, tucking her hair behind her ear. "Aw Puck," she replied, stepping forward to cup his chin. "So sweet of you to care."

Puck almost groaned in frustration: just one more chick that was over her guy. He was considering committing himself to a nuthouse when he heard her continue, "But Henry probably wouldn't appreciate it."

Puck perked up. Henry; that was her husband. "He home?" he purred, laying it on thick to fully test her.

The Grecian beauty smiled and groaned sympathetically. "No baby, but ever since a few months ago? It's been…well, you probably wouldn't understand." She smiled dreamily. "It's like he's the Henry I first met; that spark, that pop—it just reappeared."

Cheryl looked back at him. "Anyways, for now I think I should keep paying my nephew to clean the pool—at least until I can convince him that maybe the three of us should…spend some time together."

She smiled at the teen suggestively, who had to use all of his energy to not look disgusted as he said his goodbyes and slid back into his truck. Sure, chick was hot, but no way in hell did he do three-ways with another _guy_. Shit was _not_ his style.

So now Puck sat in his room, confused. He'd set up Annie (or whoever she was) with Azimio, and that was over. He'd set up Santana and Rutherford, and _that _shit was done. But he'd set up that cougar babe with her hubby, and apparently the two of them were going strong. Not to mention Quinn, who despite getting her physical needs satisfied elsewhere, really seemed to adore Finn in every other way.

So what did that mean? Apparently the drug worked, but not as permanently as he thought. So how could he figure out how fast it went through the system?

Puck hated to admit it, but he was willing to bet Berry'd have a guess about something like this—she was good with brainy stuff, and he was basically just a kid with a gun. Not that he could ask her, but maybe if he thought like a chick or something…

He started with the blonde. He really'd just picked Azimio randomly, just to get rid of her. Maybe the shit only worked if you had some sort of history or something? That would explain the cougar and her husband, but not Santana and Rutherford, or Quinn and Finn. Maybe they had to have a major connection in the sack. But again—that would go against Quinn and Finn, and they'd been together for, like, ever.

Puck was missing something.

By now it was close to one in the morning. Worse still, all of this thinking led him to think about Berry—and not in the good, physical, naked way. He wondered what she would think about all of this. Well, he knew part one of what she would think: she'd be pissed that he'd go around messing with people's lives the way he had, whether the consequences were temporary or not. She'd lecture him on personal responsibility and ethics and a bunch of big words he wouldn't be able to (or really want to) understand. He felt like a pussy to say it, but he missed that part, the lecture and "_you're better than that"_ spiel of her speech. Sometimes he felt like, besides his ma, she was the only one that thought he could _possibly_ be better than that.

And of course, there was the bit after all of that: the part where she'd sit and actually try to figure out the answer. He'd seen her like that so many times, not just when it was the two of them in the dark, but when it was the twelve of them in Glee, or the however many of them in class (he'd had a class with her freshman year, though it surprised him he remembered it). It was one of the things he couldn't help but admire about her—no matter how pissed or disgusted she was by the whole situation, she'd still work to figure things out. It didn't matter if it was Tina or Karofsky or Finn or Quinn; she was just a good person that wanted to help.

And now, as he sat there in bed, about ready for someone to come and collect his balls while his new vagina grew in for fantasizing about how awesome Rachel Berry was when she had clothes on, not to mention her personality in general, he realized he really wasn't over her. She was always going to be in the back of his head, that voice warring against the one that told him he was just another insignificant nothing in this world.

_Aw shit_ once again rang through his head as he opened his eyes, staring at the ceiling in the dark. Because no matter how he looked at it, drug or no drug, whether he deserved her or (more likely) not, he realized he was totally head-over-goddamn-heels in love with Rachel fucking Berry.


	16. Chapter 16

Rachel woke up the next morning and decided she was done stepping on eggshells. She wanted to talk to Noah, and if no one was going to help her do it the traditional way, then she would do it the Rachel Berry way- her own unique brand of intervention.

At Glee rehearsal, Mr. Schue was talking about the assignment for the week ("moving forward") and Rachel's hand shot up into the air.

"Yes Rachel?" the curly-haired teacher acknowledged.

"Thank you, Mr. Schue. As you know, the Community Center is performing _Les Miserables_. I've therefore decided that the duet "Everyday" from this epic musical is quite appropriate as Cosette and Marius prepare to move forward to the next phase of their life and relationship."

As Mr. Schue nodded his okay and Finn began to rise, the brunette shook her head slightly. "Actually Finn," she told her friend. "I think it would be beneficial to test the range of the other potential male leads of our team." She stepped in front of the one person in the room making a solid effort to avoid eye-contact with her. "Noah?"

Puck's widened eyes quickly recovered, and he scoffed at the offer. "Sorry, Berry; I don't dig on show tunes." He pushed the music back towards her.

Rachel Berry was nothing if not persistent, however, and instead grabbed his hand, forcing the pages back into it. "Humor me," she told him, nodding to Brad.

(_Rachel_, **Puck**, **_both_**)

_Every day _

_You walk with stronger step_

_ You walk with longer step—_

_ The worst is over._

She wasn't really sure her plan would work, and she could tell she wasn't the only person floored when his rich voice pushed through.

**Every day**

** I wonder every day**

** Who was it brought me here**

** From the barricade?**

Puck couldn't believe he was doing this, that he was singing a duet with Rachel in front of everybody. Besides sex, this was the thing he thought about doing with her the most (he even once had this bizarre dream that involved the two of them having sex in the middle of them singing "You Can Be As Loud As the Hell You Want" from Avenue Q- though he's never looked at Muppets quite the same since). He could feel Quinn's eyes searing into his head, but for now, he was all for losing himself in Rachel's song, and her eyes.

_Don't think about it, Marius!  
With all the years ahead of us!  
I will never go away  
And we will be together  
Every day.  
Every day,  
We'll remember that night  
And the vow that we made:_

_A heart full of love  
_**A night full of you**_  
__**The words are old  
But always true.**__  
_

_Oh, God, for shame  
I did not even know your name!_

During her verse he'd allowed his feet to move toward her, drawn to their voices intertwining, and as he began his own he took her hand.

**Dear Mad'moiselle  
I was lost in your spell.**

Their eyes locked and he pulled her closer.

_A heart full of love,_

_No fear no regret_

He knew he didn't deserve her forgiveness, didn't deserve her song, and yet here she stood, giving both to him willingly.

_I saw you waiting and I knew_

**Waiting for you**

**At your feet **

_At your call_

**And it wasn't a dream**

_**Not a dream after all**_

The song ended, and for a moment they simply stood inches apart, eyes locked. Puck was then jolted back to reality by applause. His eyes turned to Quinn's, and, unable to think of any alternative, he thrust the papers back at Rachel, muttering "whatever," and sitting back down between Mike and Matt, ignoring all of the looks aimed his way.

* * *

After Glee ended, Puck all but flew out the door. He'd been an idiot, risking her safety from Q just to have a moment to hold her hand (did he just say all he wanted was to hold her hand? When the fuck had he turned into a chick?), and he needed to get away from here before he did something even more stupid.

Just as he reached the parking lot, however, he heard a familiar voice yelling "Noah!" (and not in the way he liked).

He groaned softly, trying to increase speed, which caused him to drop his keys and allowed the tiny brunette to catch up to him.

"Would you stop?" she all but yelled at him, grabbing his arm.

He continued fumbling with his keys, refusing to look at her. "I've got nothing to say to you."

"Dammit Noah, I'm done playing this game!" He couldn't help but face her; apparently it was a lot hotter watching her swear in real life than in his dream. "I just want a chance to talk."

"There's nothing to talk about Berry," he insisted, trying to keep an eye out for Quinn. "It was good while it lasted, now it's over. The end."

She shook her head vigorously. "I don't believe that you mean that."

"Doesn't matter if you believe it," he told her. "You don't know me, and shit is what it is."

Her eyes glared up at his, and he had to work to keep his cool and resist the strong urge to grab her hot angry body- which went completely out the window when she instead pulled herself onto her tiptoes to crash her lips against his.

The kiss was a surprise, and his every part of him threw caution to the wind as he responded. He felt his arms move of their own accord as the one she held reached behind her head to wind his fingers in her hair, as the other snaked around her waist, bringing her closer as his fingers trailed to the waistband of her skirt, fingering the zipper. Puck's tongue slid into her mouth, greedily wrestling with hers that he'd missed so much. In that one kiss he felt every flash of every moment they'd had together, and it burnt through his body like a flame on gasoline.

The kiss ended a lot sooner than he would have he liked (although to be fair, eternity may be a long time for a kiss to last), and when she pulled away, he had to suppress a moan.

"You're right" she told him. "I don't know you, Puck, and I accept that."

"Okay," Puck's stomach dropped a little that she seemed done with him (especially after getting his blood up like that), but he maintained his front. "So are you going to let go of me?" He gestured to her hand, still firmly fixed on his forearm. Apparently it hadn't moved through the entire interaction.

"No," she stated firmly. "Because I still have something to say to _Noah_." She took a deep breath and fixed him with those damn penetrating eyes that made him think she was reading his mind or something.

"You, Noah Puckerman, are more than all of this," she told him. "I know you: I know that, although you insist upon using profanity to express yourself, you took the PSATs and got a 147; I know that you took the time and helped your little sister learn to ride her bike when she was 7; and I know that, despite your tough exterior, you would do anything to keep the people you care about from getting hurt."

Puck let his eyes drop. He couldn't understand why she was doing this: why she couldn't just move on.

Rachel continued. "I also know that you're afraid: afraid of what other people think; afraid of what being associated with me will do to your reputation—"

"Damn it Rache!" he shouted over her shaking his head. "That's not it at all." He stared at her in frustration as she looked at him skeptically. "Don't you understand? It's not just me—do you understand what they'd do to you if we came out as a couple?" He shook his head in disgust. "You have no idea what those assholes are capable of, Berry. The way things are now? It'll die down soon enough. But if Qu—people found out we got back together, even as friends, you'd spend the rest of high school with a huge target on your back, listening to trash talk and looking over your shoulder."

"It's only two years Noah," she insisted.

"Two years is a long time, Berry," he countered. He looked back at the school. "I mean, maybe two years for you is short: your future is huge and open and away from here. But me in two years? I'll probably still be within a five mile radius of where we're standing; end up working at Hummel's car shop or the grill at Denny's." He tried to shrug indifferently, finally voicing that damn voice in his head that he'd heard since he'd met her. "You're better off forgetting about all of this…about me."

The noise that came from her mouth sounded like a mix of a groan and a strangled scream, causing Puck to back up a step. Unfortunately, she still had a tight grip on his arm (he hadn't really wanted her to let go anyways), so she simply took a step forward, closing the distance between them again.

"Noah, you are incorrigible!" She yelled at him, slamming her free palm into his chest. "The only reason you haven't succeeded yet in life is because you keep getting in your own way; it's like you're too afraid of failure to even _try_ to succeed. With a C average, which you could accomplish by simply showing up to class, you could easily get into OSU; with a little more ambition, who knows? You could be anything you want—"

"Really, Berry? Really?" Puck scoffed, fuming at her unwavering belief in him. "You're so full of it! I'm _nothing _Berry, can't you see that? You keep going on about my potential, my promise; you refuse to see what everyone else does—that I'm just another Lima loser!"

Rachel's eyes flashed with anger, and she hit him again (in the back of his mind he wondered if she knew that her punches didn't hurt). "Shut up you idiot!" she yelled, and Puck winced as that weird groan/scream thing wrenched from her throat again. She let go of his arm and turned away from him as she took a deep breath.

Puck rubbed his arm absently, shifting uncomfortably in the silence. He waited, but the small brunette did not turn back to face him. Finally he sighed and turned back to his truck, opening the door.

"You're right," she said softly, and upon hearing it, Puck could feel his chest tighten and his lips press together firmly. She turned back to him, and her eyes were glistening. "I'm not your girlfriend, Noah, and I'm not your friend, so maybe what I think doesn't matter. But you're never going to accomplish anything until you stop caring about the imbeciles in this town and what they think." She paused a moment, standing on tiptoe again to kiss his cheek softly. "You need to decide what's more important: Puck or Noah? The next two years or the rest of your life?"

Her eyebrows quirked up at him, and she turned to walk back to the school. He just sat in his truck, frozen as he watched her figure become smaller and smaller.

* * *

**A/N:** I have to take some time off, so I'll see you guys in a week!


	17. Chapter 17

**A/N:** Hi everybody! I'm back- I missed you!

**Extra A/N:** About the PSAT comment in the last chapter- I have no idea how the PSATs work anymore; I was in high school when the SATs still worked in 1600 points. So the 147 score I chose is what the internet claims is an average to above average score for PSATs for a junior (apparently they're broken down into three scores of 20-80?). So yeah; the point was that Puck is actually a lot smarter than he appears. Sorry about any confusion.

* * *

Puck'd spent half the night thinking about what Rachel had said, and fuck all if she wasn't right. He had been this…sleazy_ enforcer_ for so long, and for whom? Quinn? His football buddies? In two years (maybe less) they'd be nothing but a memory. Why was he letting their opinion make or break him?

He didn't know what he could do, what he was capable of; but it had to be more than this. And Puck knew where he had to start.

* * *

Cheerios practice had been grueling, but Quinn never felt more invigorated in her life. She'd been told that "her skirt wasn't going to be the only interesting part to the judges" on her full back handspring round-out by Coach Sylvester (high praise); she'd lost three pounds (prompting her father to buy her a new dress); and—with the exception of that desperate duet in Glee—she'd felt she'd _finally_ successfully knocked Rachel Berry to understanding her place in the hierarchy.

So it was with a triumphant grin that she dismissed her squad and packed up her equipment—only to have her path to the locker room blocked by one Noah Puckerman.

"I don't need you, or want you: go away," she told him curtly, moving to step past him.

He repositioned himself, still in front of her. "Lay off Rachel," he deadpanned.

She smirked, her expression mocking. "Rachel? I didn't realize you and ManHands were on a first-name basis," she sneered.

His face didn't budge from its unyielding sobriety. "I'm serious Fabray; leave her alone."

She scoffed. "Really, Puck?" she paused, but he still said nothing, just stared. "You think demanding my cooperation will really get you anywhere? You're as crazy as she is." She strode past him and reached for the handle.

"You back off or I'll go to Finn."

She wheeled around, eyes wide with disbelief. "And tell him what? That I'm making you be an asshole to her?" He'd never believe it, and they both knew that.

"How about that you're a cheating bitch?" he countered, tone full of accusation.

Quinn walked toward him, assessing the threat he presented to her. "You would really break your best friend's heart by telling him his _best friend_ was fooling around with his _girlfriend_?"

Puck winced a little at the charge, feeling the weight of the guilt. He couldn't even remember now why banging Quinn Fabray had been so important, and, whatever the reason, he _knew_ it hadn't been worth it.

But he was still prepared to wipe that self-satisfied look off of the blonde's face when he pulled out a folder and thrust it into her hands. "I don't have to," he replied. "Not when I can easily tell him about Kevin Thompson from Carmel, Zeke Plummer from Dalton Academy and Aaron McKenna from OSU." He watched her face as she thumbed through the photographs, a look of horror etched on her face. "Apparently you get around just as much as any other girl Q," he told her. "You just hide the evidence better by spreading out over a wider circle."

"All of these are over," Quinn told him, attempting to stay in control. "I ended every one of them months ago."

Puck's faced turned quizzical. "Funny;" he replied sarcastically. "I thought you and Finn had been together for two _years_."

The Cheerio shook her head furiously, waving the now crumpled photos in her hand. "You get rid of these immediately or I swear I'll—"

"You'll what?" he countered, and could see the rage behind her eyes as she leveled a glare that would drop him if looks could. When she said nothing else, he continued. "I know you stopped seeing these guys, and I know you love Hudson. No one outside of us needs to know about this shit if you just do me this one favor and fucking stop the razing." Puck arched his eyebrow and tilted his head slightly as he stuck out his hand. "Deal?"

Quinn's eyes were ice blue slits as she spat, "When I get through with you, Puckerman, you'll be the one in the dumpster, up to your eyes in blueberry slushie."

"So long as it isn't her," he nodded and moved aside to let the fuming blonde pass.

She shook her head. "I'm going to personally see to it that you go down Puck—hard and fast; and by the time I'm done, no one will want to be within a five-mile radius of you."

She stormed out, seeing red as she heard his quiet comment from behind closed doors: "Maybe one person still will."

* * *

Quinn flew down the hall. Her eyes gleamed, and she was done playing nice. She'd warned them both, and now _he_ was trying to play _her_? She wouldn't lose Finn, not like this. She'd made mistakes in the past: trying to fulfill her needs outside their relationship so that he wouldn't feel bad about being awkward and she wouldn't feel bad about wanting to be sated. But she'd realized, after the whole mess with Puck, that maybe it wasn't wrong to want your boyfriend to know what makes you happy. That maybe God (and definitely she) would rather have Finn touch her and love her than some guy that was good because he did nothing but tap-and-go. And he'd gotten so much better, and things had been really good between them in that sense. Kissing Puck again had been a mistake, and it had made her that much more certain that she didn't want to lose Finn; that she loved him too much to risk it like this on a nobody like Puck. The smug bastard wasn't going to get away with this. If he wanted out, he was going to go the most painful way she knew how.

She reached her destination in what had to be record time and stormed into the girl's restroom where she knew Rachel Berry would be.

Rachel looked up from washing the blue slushie stain from her top and watched Quinn storm into the room with wide eyes: she looked like she was ready to kill someone, and, being the only other person in the room, this made her uncomfortable enough to take several steps backwards.

She eyed the blonde as she took a deep breath and stared hard into the brunette's chocolate eyes.

"Okay Berry: you win."

Rachel blinked. What had just happened?

"I win?" she questioned uncertainly.

Quinn nodded. "You want Puck; I'll get him for you—if you do me just one last favor."

Rachel huffed. "No Quinn," she shook her head. "I'm done trying to go around you—I've said what I wanted to say to Noah; it's up to him now."

Quinn met her eyes incredulously. "Really? That little song you put on—that's all you've got to say? You'd turn down an opportunity to really _talk_ to him face-to-face? To actually make him _get_ it?"

Rachel thought quickly. She didn't want Quinn to know she'd already spoken to Noah; that everything she'd wished to express to him was already out there. She had a feeling the blonde wouldn't appreciate such a communication, and that Noah (and possibly she herself) would suffer for it.

"What could possibly make me believe that this ploy is any different than the others?" she queried.

Quinn sighed, expressing a mixture of annoyance and shame. "I was jealous of you and Puck at first—I couldn't understand why he'd want to be with someone like _you_," she told her. "But then I realized that maybe setting you up with Puck—to whatever effect—would actually be more beneficial for me; give me time to focus on me and Finn." She looked pointedly at Rachel.

Her chocolate eyes focused on the blue ones across from her as she thought. It didn't seem to Rachel as though Quinn would open up about such a personal matter (while still insulting her) unless she was being truthful.

"If you do this for me," she continued. "And he doesn't find you _that day_—you can go ahead and tell Finn everything."

Rachel's eyes quirked up at the offer. Quinn stuck out her hand, and, after a moment, the brunette accepted it. Quinn wasted no time in giving out her final instructions.

* * *

"_I've been so busy over the last who-knows-how-long," the cheerleader told her. "Cheerios, Finn, and especially this whole mess about you and Puck. I've fallen behind on important things—things that keep me where I am at the top." The glint in the blonde's eyes was quite unsettling._

_"In Santana's locker, there's a manila envelope," Quinn informed Rachel. "In the folder is…_**information **_that helps me keep tabs on the goings on of this school."_

_"Gossip," Rachel supplied: she was talking to a regular Blair Waldorf._

_"From sources that Jacob Ben-Israel would kill for." Quinn smiled. "Anyways, with everything that's been going on, I've been unable to retrieve my communications from Santana. I just need you to get it to me by tomorrow."_

_"Why tomorrow?" the brunette couldn't help but ask._

_Quinn shrugged. "I have some…business to take care of," she replied. "Without the report, it won't be nearly as productive."_

_"And you think Santana will give it to me?" Rachel inquired skeptically._

_"Are you kidding? She wouldn't hand it over to _**me**_ if she could help it," the Cheerio chuckled. "But I'm sure, what with the adeptness you've shown for everything else, this should be easy."_

So Rachel spent the rest of the day trying to figure out how to get a hold of information she definitely wasn't supposed to have from the one girl in school besides Quinn who would be the least likely to want to help her.


	18. Chapter 18

She decided to try the most direct approach—just plead her case to the Latina. She found her in the hall on her way to first period.

"Santana," she called, tapping the Cheerio's shoulder.

The girl paused a moment to identify the speaker, glare, then turn heel coolly without bothering to address the brunette.

Rachel would not give up that easily. "Santana, please; I just need—"

"Go to hell, Berry," the girl retorted just before slipping into a classroom.

Rachel halted, staring at the door that now separated her and her goal. Maybe she was going about this the wrong way.

* * *

During Chemistry the universe was apparently on her side, because Mr. Kurnett declared it study hall to catch up on old work. While half the class scurried between make-up projects, Rachel decided to take a chance on another friend. She folded a note and passed it behind her, before making her way to the front and asking for a hall pass.

Two minutes later, she and Matt were standing in an empty hallway.

"What's up Rachel?" he asked, curious but kindly. Rachel took his attitude as a good sign: Matt was another of the more popular Glee members, and they were not innately friends; but she needed his help if she was going to achieve her goal.

"I need your help with Santana," she told him upfront. Matt tilted his head in confusion, so she continued. "I need to get something from her, and I was hoping that perhaps, since you two were involved in a personal relationship, you may know how I could convince her to relinquish the object in question."

Matt smiled a little. "This is for Puck, right?" he asked, and Rachel blushed but did not reply. She decided it would still be safer to keep her motives to herself. He grinned a little wider, however, at her color, and replied, "Man; you're both crazy."

"Okay," he said, standing straight. "San—I'm probably not the person to help you get to her. Honestly, we only dated like two months, and she wasn't exactly exclusive."

"Surely you must know something about her that could put me in her good graces enough to surrender what I need?" Rachel insisted.

"Dude, I'm not the one who would know Santana's secrets," Matt started to shake his head, then jerked it back up in realization. "But Brittany would." He smiled at his own epiphany. "Of course—talk to Brit. She and San are best friends and then some. You get into _her_ good graces, she can probably get you into Santana's."

Rachel hugged Matt tightly, thanking him profusely. She scurried back to chemistry and waited impatiently through the rest of her classes for the lunch bell, then went off in search of her new target.

She caught a glimpse of her walking up the stairs, and quickly moved after her. She caught up to the blonde just as she reached the door to the roof.

"Brittany—" she began, then noticed the excited grin adorning the girl's face. "What are you doing up here?"

"Summer Foley told me that I was being promoted to the top of the period, and that made me totally fly," Brittany reported happily. "I couldn't remember ever doing it, so I decided to practice during lunch."

_Oh good lord_. Rachel took Brittany's hand and began leading her back down the stairs to the safety of the first floor. "Brittany, I believe when she said _fly_, she was speaking figuratively about your upgrade in the Cheerios."

The blonde tilted her head in confusion. "She was saying she thought I look fat?" she asked. "Because I'm three inches taller than her and still ten pounds lighter."

Rachel shook her head. "No," the brunette amended. "I think she was using slang to tell you that you did well." This conversation was going nowhere she wanted it to. "Brittany," she segued; she didn't have time for subtlety. "Have you ever looked inside Santana's locker?"

"Lots of times—I hide my diary there so my cat can't find it."

Rachel nodded, not even trying to figure out that last sentence. "Have you ever seen a large envelope in it?" she pressed.

Brittany nodded again, apparently happy that she could accurately answer the questions. "Sure; the Slam Pages," she informed the other. "San and Q love those."

"Right," Rachel worked to word her next question carefully. "I need to get those from Santana for Quinn, but she probably won't want to give them to me right?"

"Nope; San doesn't even let Quinn hold onto them for very long," Brittany told her, playing with her ponytail.

Rachel stopped them on the stairs. "Britt, if I got into Santana's locker, how would I get the folder?"

Brittany was still blissfully clueless about the direction of the conversation, now looking around for her bestie among the throngs in the hall below them. "Well, you'd have to get past Summer and her wannabe cronies," she parroted the Latina's description of her fellow Cheerios. "But that wouldn't be hard—San says they eat their feelings, so just bring them bad feelings and they'll probably get sick."

"Uh, Okay," Rachel acknowledged, urging the girl on. She knew the information was probably useful, but she was running out of time. "What else?"

"And you wouldn't want to take any of the food from the locker except gum," Brittany informed the brunette. "Once, I drank part of San's pomegranate smoothie and my teeth turned red for a week."

Rachel's eyes went wide at the last point, but she still motioned for the blonde to continue.

"Oh, and once you get your hands on the folder—don't open it," Brittany finished proudly. "It's a super secret," she whispered.

The brunette was about to ask how she could convince the Cheerio to give her the folder when Brittany suddenly shouted, "San!" and ran toward the Latina.

"B!" Santana shouted, her grin turning glare as she noticed the petite girl beside her friend. "Where have you been?"

"I went up to the roof to practice flying, but Rachel said my body wasn't light enough for it," Brittany summarized, and her friend's eyes glared at the brunette's in accusation.

"Apparently, there was a misunderstanding between Brittany and Summer regarding her promotion to the top of the pyramid," Rachel explained quickly.

"She said I could fly," Brittany added disappointedly.

Rachel didn't miss the darkened expression that took Santana's face before it softened for the bubbly blonde. "Britt; you're not at the top of the pyramid hon, remember? Q's still got that spot," she told the now crestfallen girl. "You're just below her, right next to me," she added with a smile as her friend nodded.

"So I can't fly?" Brit pouted. "Then why would Summer say I could?"

"Because she's a bitch who's going to be sporting black and blue as her new colors as soon as I find her," Santana muttered angrily, taking the blonde's pinky in her own and smoothing her hair. "Come on B."

Rachel knew this may be her only opportunity. "Santana?" she said.

The girl stopped, giving the girl her second once-over in one day. "Q sent you, right?" she asked, not waiting for a reply. "Fine; meet me in the locker room after school and I'll give it to you." With those words, she guided Brittany back to the safety of the cafeteria.

* * *

The bell signaling the end of school rang as Rachel stood outside the exclusive Cheerios locker room (an addition made by Sue adjacent to the original locker room after she insisted that her girls shouldn't have to deal with the added stress and potential taints of the insignificant student body). She'd convinced her history teacher that she needed to leave early for an appointment, citing her immaculate record as grounds for leniency; all so she could get here now, to avoid a scene. She took a deep breath to steady her nerves and stepped forward, her hand reaching out towards the door.

"What do you think you're doing here loser?" a voice called from behind her. The brunette whirled around turned to see three Cheerios—more specifically, Summer Foley and her two friends (or cronies, as they had been aptly called before)—glaring at her menacingly. "This space is for Cheerios only."

Rachel thought fast. "Well," she replied, thanking Brittany for her unintentional assistance. "Quinn approached me this morning and told me that there would be an opening in the Cheerios soon—that one of the tumblers was dragging the team down, and they were quietly looking for a replacement." She stood tall as if to emphasize her physical credentials. "With my extensive background in dance and gymnastics, I thought I had potential to prove myself useful."

The redhead raised an eyebrow at the Gleek's statement. "I'm our alpha tumbler—the best we have," she stated. "If Quinn thought we were giving someone the boot, why wouldn't I have been informed?"

Rachel's innocent eyes widened in surprise. "Well, I'm not sure I would be the person to ask; after all I'm not even a Cheerio yet," she told the junior. "However, Quinn did imply it was some sort of 'problem within the family', and," she whispered conspiratorially to the other girl, "Quinn said that Santana had personally lobbied for her dismissal."

The Cheerio, worry already etched on her face, now looked horrified: Rachel figured her mind was racing to try to find any other girl besides herself with whom Santana would be unusually livid.

"If it were me," Rachel finished, pushing aside the slight guilt she was starting to feel. "I'd just be glad that it's Ice Cream Day in the cafeteria." She gave the girls a knowing look.

Summer was the first to crack. "Oh God," she whispered. "You don't think she found out about my comment to Ditzy?" she hissed at the others. Their wide eyes apparently did not console her. "I need to go," she whimpered, and the other two rushed to her side as they guided her out the door, presumably to the cafeteria.

Rachel, left alone for a moment, felt uncomfortable for the pain she'd caused. However, she pushed the thought aside and pulled open the door.

A dozen or so girls already occupied the space, but they were apparently too caught up in their own worlds to notice her presence. She walked through them, up to the end of the row where the raven-haired Cheerio preened in front of a mirror.

"Santana?" Rachel voiced softly, not wanting to draw unwanted attention to the two of them.

She didn't turn, but watched the brunette through the reflection as she retouched her make-up. "Berry," she greeted, closing the lid on her mascara and moving toward her locker.

"Do you want anything?" the Cheerio offered, smiling. "Smoothie, diet shake, crusty old bread?"

The petite brunette knew it wouldn't be wise to refuse her host, and thanked Brittany yet again as she replied, "No thank you, but if you have any gum, that'd be wonderful."

The smile on the Latina's face flickered, but quickly righted itself as she pulled out a stick of minty freshness and handed it to the other girl. Rachel placed it in her mouth and chewed hesitantly (she even flashed her teeth at the mirror while the cheerleader's back was turned); but nothing seemed amiss. She breathed a small sigh of relief.

They finally reached the locker, and Rachel watched as the combination whirled back and forth in a blur before suddenly flying open. Santana reached inside and pulled out a large manila envelope, very thin, but apparently important by the meaningful look she now gave to Rachel.

"Don't open it," she instructed. "Just take it straight to Q."

Rachel hesitated a moment, but the Cheerio just flounced away, her locker slamming behind her. Suddenly alone in the prestigious locker room, she quickly sped away, clutching the envelope in her hand.


	19. Chapter 19

Rachel flew down the hall, not stopping until she reached the choir room. She texted Quinn "_Mission accomplished. I'm in the choir room_" and sat impatiently to wait. When her phone vibrated a few minutes later she eagerly looked to find Quinn's reply of "_perfect. stay. b there n 15_".

So Rachel sat, anxiously tapping her feet as she watched the clock's hands _tic-tic-tic_ tortuously slow, waiting for this nightmare to be finished.

Desperate to calm her nerves, she turned to the piano; stroking the keys, honing her pitch as she matched different notes. She'd barely begun the scale when her eyes flitted to the envelope sitting lightly on top of the instrument, and then away again.

She stood and turned her back to the piano, addressing the large invisible audience in the chairs before her as she began warming up her vocal chords. Out of the corner of her eye, she couldn't help but see the manila envelope, the dull beige a sharp contrast to the glossy black of the instrument.

The brunette sighed noisily and strode over to her backpack, pulling out a piece of sheet music from her bag, humming along to the score while focusing on her footwork for the choreography.

And then her eyes darted to the envelope again. It was gossip, and Rachel despised the stuff personally (often because she seemed to find herself on the wrong end of the scandal); but Quinn had said that inside was information she was going to use _that day_. Rachel's mind began to race: the day was all but over—what if she was planning on using something against Noah? What if the information she was about to blindly hand over was going to be utilized to hurt him?

Or what if it was about herself? What if there were unflattering or inappropriate pictures of her that she intended on passing along to Jacob Ben-Israel to post on his creepy blog?

She reached out and ran her fingers hesitantly over the paper, fingering the material. She finally picked it up and held the envelope in her hand, contemplating her options. Maybe…_maybe_, she reasoned, she should just take a look, just one-if only to make sure it was nothing incriminating. If it had nothing to do with her or Noah, she would simply put it back—no harm, no foul. Although she didn't like the idea of someone else receiving a taste of Quinn's toxic tongue, she didn't see much of a choice except to refuse her, and she desperately wished to give her and Noah that chance: to show him it was their choice if he wanted it.

She looked up, walking over to the door and sneaking a glance through the window to make certain Quinn's figure wasn't yet approaching, and then seized the packet: her fingers quickly twisting the string from the button securing it, opening the flap and gently sliding out its contents onto the piano. She opened the revealed folder slowly, and at first could only stare in confusion.

Inside were pictures, labeled with names and dates at the bottom corner. They were all of Noah with various girls: Cheerios, athletes, and some that she didn't recognize, but all likely from her school. He was obviously flirting with some, often kissing or whispering seductively in their ears—Rachel could see it in their faces. But how would that be blackmail? It's not like people didn't already know about his reputation, herself included, and these girls dated all over: from beginning of freshman year to roughly five months ago. Why would Quinn—?

At that moment a few slips of paper fell out of the folder. Eager to be sure nothing was amiss, the brunette reached out to retrieve the contraband, skimming over them absently as she moved to place them back in their pocket.

The barely-interested glance transformed into a shell-shocked stare as she did a double take when her brain processed what she was looking at. In her hand were receipts of checks, all made out from Quinn Fabray to Noah Puckerman. At the bottom, written at the line marked _Regarding_, were the words "Services Rendered" followed by a name. Rachel's eyes widened as her eyes darted from the receipts back to the photos: Bonnie Harrison, Michelle Planer, Leslie Coleman, Summer Foley… the papers went on and on, one for every picture.

And one extra. Rachel's eyes welled as she read the last slip of paper over and over.

As if on cue, Noah chose that exact moment to walk into the room.

* * *

Puck was feeling pretty good about himself as he walked to his truck. He had stood up for Rachel and for himself, just like he should have the entire time. No doubt he was worried about what Quinn would do; but man, it had felt good to finally do what _he_ wanted, tell that "Holier-than-thou" blonde what she really was.

And then the text had come in: _You win. I'm done. She's in the choir room._

He'd stood in shock for a moment, staring in disbelief at the message. He'd won? He'd won. He smiled. Damn straight he'd won—given that bitch what-for. He slammed his truck's door shut and ran to go talk to his girl.

He sprinted through the parking lot back into the school, completely indifferent to the fact that the public had a perfect view of likely the dumbest grin physically possible plastered on his face. He was so excited he didn't stop until he reached the choir room door and threw it open.

For one moment everything was perfect. He saw her, her back to him, and he loved her: her shining brown hair cascading down her back, her tiny form hovering over the piano in her ruffled skirt and animal sweater (different than the one she'd worn this morning) that was actually pretty sexy on her. She was exactly what he wanted, and he saw a future where she'd walk with him proudly; where he'd deserve to be in her good graces.

And then she turned to face him and he really saw her: her big brown eyes overflowing with tears; her reddened face lost in grief; and in her hand a single slip of paper. Puzzled, Puck took a step forward and saw the pictures, the receipts, and realized what she was holding.

A date. A price. His name and Quinn's. _Regarding_ Services Rendered: Rachel Berry.

"Rache, you don't understand—" he tried desperately to explain, but he knew before the useless words came close to leaving his mouth that even if he had a good excuse she'd never let him give it.

"Services rendered?" she spat. "That's what this is? That's what _you_ are?"

He couldn't think of a thing to say. He saw her pain, her disappointment, and he felt like he was suffocating. He couldn't breathe, which was ironic because she looked like she was almost hysterical.

"So this is a game to you?" she demanded. She held up one of the pictures. "These are real people Noah! With real feelings, and you just used them because Quinn paid you to?" She shook her head hard, as if trying to erase what she'd just found out.

"I had to do it—I needed it to get out of here," he whispered, knowing his flimsy excuse would be meaningless in her eyes. "To be more than this."

Rachel glared at him. "So you figured ruining a few people's lives would be justified so long as you got out of Lima?" she retorted. "For God's sake Noah! That's just making you the same person in a different town! You should empathize with these people more than anyone, and instead you did _this_ to them? To _me_?"

She threw down the papers, the photos, the folder itself, and hurried to move past him.

"Rache please," he begged, following her into the hall. Goddamn it, he didn't care if anyone saw, he was _not_ losing her again. "Rachel I love you."

She whirled around to face him and he felt the sting as her palm as it connected with his cheek. She looked like a wreck, her chest heaving and an expression of fury and disbelief with her previous tear-streaked face all mixed together. He wondered if his own face was any better.

She regarded him with revulsion and contempt, like he saw her do when Mr. Schue passed out disco music.

"I don't even know you," the brunette told him, her voice losing all fire, suddenly turning cold and sad at her insight. "You were right Puck; I never knew you. And after this-I don't ever want to." She pivoted quickly and sped out the door, leaving him paralyzed where he stood.


	20. Chapter 20

_"Fellow Students of McKinley- has rebel-without-a-cause and self-proclaimed badass Puck been reduced to a shell of his former self? So it would seem by the scene witnessed after school in our very own hallowed halls, where multiple sources have alleged the fearsome jock chasing after one delicious Ms. Rachel Berry (whom, if you remember, was herself subject to unconfirmed reports of obsessively pursuing the aforementioned footballer recently). No clarification on what the conversation between the two entailed, but according to one fellow jock, Puckerman "looked like a goddamn pussy". Has the resident sex stud of William McKinley lost his touch? Or has Rachel Berry's siren spell caught another helpless Jew in its snare?"_

* * *

Puck felt like he was in Bizarro World. First off, his own badassness was being called into question when he noticed the nerds, geeks, dweebs, and general lesser half of McKinley watched him with curiosity instead of with fear (damn JewFro and his creeper tendencies). Even more so when he found himself opposite Quinn in the halls. They stood in a face-off, her expression first triumphant, basking in his pain, then suddenly flashing in fear as Finn came between them, pulling her into a tight embrace and kissing the top of her corn-silk head. It was as if she just realized in that moment that he could easily destroy her relationship and reputation.

What surprised Puck was that he didn't care about any of it anymore—period. Even though he knew that people thought he was kind of a pansy now from the shit that went down in the hallway (though they still were smart enough to look away when his gaze passed over them), and it was all that damn blonde bitch's fault: he didn't want to ruin her, and he didn't want to hurt Finn. Because it wasn't like any of it was going to help him get Rachel back. And who fucking cared about Quinn Fabray anyways?

And then there was Rachel herself. She wouldn't speak to him; wouldn't even speak near him if she could help it (and when she couldn't, it was in concise, clipped tones). She ghosted around him as if he didn't exist. He never thought about how used he was to Rachel speaking. Even before he'd been outted in this whole mess, she'd been talking at, near, or to him constantly. He'd always said he'd like to pull her plug, but, now that it was all but gone, he found himself really missing the sound of her voice.

He tried the Berry method of fixing things—he'd actually manned up and sang in Glee. Sang to _her_. But possibly for the first time since he'd known her, music failed to move her and his _I'm sorry_ by Buckcherry fell on deaf ears.

Puck thought hard as he lay sprawled out on his bed that night. Maybe he was going about this all wrong—trying to fix the relationship he and Rachel had before. That relationship, while safe and awesome for him, was built on secrecy and half-truths. The foundation was shaky because only one of them-Rachel- had been doing all of the work. Now he had to show her that he was all in, and (as she had so often told him) actions spoke louder than words.

So what did he want? Well, best-case scenario was Rachel back, preferably naked. But, considering what had gone down in the last few days, that was really stretching the game in term of possibilities. So what was the bare minimum of what he needed? Puck rolled onto his stomach.

What he needed, he realized, was Rachel to forgive him. To believe he was still capable of being a worthwhile human being- because if she believed it, then he knew he could figure shit out. Because if she believed it, it had a chance of being true. Really? He just needed to know someone like her _could_ believe it. So now he just needed to figure out how to get her to do that.

* * *

Rachel walked out of her classroom toward her locker. School had finally ended, and she just wanted to go home, draw a bubble bath with lots of therapeutic salts and scented candles, and make some herbal tea to soothe the non-stop ache she'd felt for the last week. Ever since the truth about Noah—_Puck_, she corrected herself sternly: Noah had never existed—had come out, she'd felt like her heart had been ripped out of her chest and was left with a dull, throbbing void.

When she reached her locker, she sighed inwardly as Kurt and Mercedes stood against the row of metal doors waiting for her.

She turned her mouth upward into a smile. "Hello Kurt; Mercedes," she greeted them. "Is there something I can assist you with? Though I must inform you that I'm expected home soon so whatever it is will have to be quick—"

"Nothing like that, Diva," Mercedes interjected smiling.

Kurt looked like he was ready to explode. "Notice anything different today?"

Rachel thought back to her day—class, quiz, class, lunch, movie about bugs, study hall, class. "Not really," she admitted.

He sighed exasperatedly. "What are you wearing?" he pressed.

The brunette sighed; she wasn't in the mood for Kurt coming down on her outfit of choice today. "Kurt, regardless of your, quote, 'flawless taste', I'll have you know I am quite content with my choices in apparel—"

"My taste is impeccable," Kurt interrupted impatiently. "But what I meant is which outfit are you wearing?"

Rachel's eyes widened as she realized what Kurt was trying to tell her: the school day had ended, and she was still in the outfit she'd arrived to school in. Now that she thought about it, she hadn't seen any new graffiti or vandalism or been the butt of any particular prank. She'd gone through her day (and the last three days, now that she thought about it) without any of the harassment that usually accompanied her school schedule.

"Why?" she whispered, as if afraid that speaking any louder the jocks would realize they'd been remiss and trigger a pent-up response.

"Finn," Kurt exclaimed giddily. "I heard he found out about the more pointed attacks and called them out on it." He smiled, mock swooning over their bari-tenor lead.

"I heard that he, Mike, Matt, and Puck went and dumped a gallon of slushie on some key jocks to send a message," Mercedes told her.

Rachel looked at both of them, their eyes gleaming as they continued gossiping about possible tactics used by the Glee jocks to change their status, but said nothing. She had a lot on her mind.

* * *

Rachel had forgone her bubble bath and tea therapy session. It irritated her, but some things were more important. As she knocked forcefully on the white front door, she despised her decision that this was one of them.

Finn Hudson appeared on the other side, staring at her curiously. "Rachel?" he asked, looking around as if he thought she was a decoy. "What's up?"

"It was brought to my attention the sudden decrease in harassment undertaken by the elite social hierarchy at our school to myself and fellow Glee members, and I was informed that your influence played a major role," she stated, watching his face scrunch up in puzzlement as he tried to follow her sentence. She sighed. "Kurt said that you told the jocks to stop slushy-ing us, among other things," she clarified.

Finn's face relaxed in understanding, then flushed slightly as he replied, "Well, that's not exactly what happened."

_Puck slowly approached Finn in the locker room, hovering by his locker. Finn looked up at his friend in question, and tilted his head curiously as he watched the self-proclaimed badass take a deep breath._

"_Dude, your girlfriend's a bitch," he began, though the next part of his speech was cut off by the lanky boy shoving him against the locker, his face reddened and furious as he loudly objected to the term of choice._

"_I'm serious man," the olive-toned boy insisted. "She's been making Berry's life a living hell."_

_The quarterback's expression didn't soften. "_**You're**_ the one that's been making Rachel miserable, asshole" he retorted. "Quinn's the one who's been trying to help."_

"_No man," Puck told him, his face somber as his eyes locked onto his friend's. "She hasn't. I'm not saying I haven't been doing all the wrong things when it comes to Berry, but Quinn's been treating her like shit since junior high." He placed a hand on his friend's shoulder. "Especially now, with...well, everything that's been going on."_

_Finn shook his head slowly, letting go of the other and sitting on the bench as he tried to grasp the situation. He knew that Quinn didn't particularly like Rachel, but it had never occurred to him that she hated the girl. _

_Puck sat next to him. "She loves you—she'll listen to you," he told him. "She's the fucking queen of this goddamn school. Everything that's been going on could stop if you could convince her."_

_The gawky teen said nothing, trying to figure out how he'd missed all of this; how Puck, who barely tolerated Glee club, who always claimed giving a shit was for pussies, had gotten it so easily. He'd hardly noticed his friend stand to leave until he realized the guy was frozen, staring at him while he tried to voice something._

"_Just promise you'll try man?" His face looked earnest, and the quarterback couldn't help but nod._

_That night he'd sat down with Quinn and they'd had the longest discussion in their relationship. It started with a lot of yelling and for once Finn had stood his ground, allowing it to end with Quinn promising to use her influence to help her gleemates to the best of her abilities. And then of course it had been followed with a lot of kissing and various other activities that made his jeans tighten just thinking about._

"So you see," Finn finished, shrugging his shoulders. "I'm glad I could help, but I was just the go-between." He watched as Rachel, wide-eyed and stunned, thanked him again (though somewhat distractedly) and quickly made her way home._  
_


	21. Chapter 21

**A/N:** Come on Puckleberrians- you knew this song was coming. I just couldn't keep from using it, though I'm sure there could've been better ones out there. It's just too memorable for them. And besides, I love it!

* * *

When Rachel finally made it home that day, she felt more confused than ever. N—_Puck_ had helped them? Had helped _her_? A part of her saw the sweetness in the gesture, but the forefront of her mind sternly reminded her that he'd used her, had only been interested in her because of a figure given to him by Quinn to…what? Ruin her good girl reputation? Keep her away from Finn? Degrade her in a larger-than-life prank, resulting in a sensational emotional death like Barbara in _The Way We Were_? She hadn't actually figured out the point of the arrangement, but she had been maintaining to herself that she didn't care; that she was stronger than them and would move on to bigger and better things: New York, college, and _Evita_ to name just a few.

She took a long shower, washing her hair and body thoroughly as she tried to scrub and soothe away all of her worries and thoughts and cares. Afterwards, the brunette meticulously dried herself and her hair, dressing in satin lilac nightgown that dropped off just before her knees and gently brushed against her skin when she walked.

As Rachel sat at her vanity, smoothing any tangles left in her dark locks, she focused on the face in the mirror, trying to clear any messy thoughts outside of her bedroom. It was actually more difficult than she cared to admit, since the gentle pull of the brush reminded her of Noah's fingers running through her hair, causing heat to pool inside of her as her body responded to the memory.

She shook her head fiercely, trying to erase any flashes of his skin grazing hers as she tried to get a hold of herself. _He wasn't real_, she insisted internally. _It was all just a game_.

Despite what she said to anyone (including herself), however, she couldn't really believe that. The way he sang to her, talked to her; she really couldn't believe he'd open up that way if he didn't mean at least some of it. However, she wasn't willing to be part of this made-for-television soap opera she'd somehow managed to find herself in any longer. She was tired of fighting every step of the way, and, despite everything he made her feel, she felt that maybe it was for the best to give up and move on.

She hummed softly to herself, trying to find a song in her repertoire that could lift her spirits in this moment. As she began to expand her mind past the typical Barbara and Broadway, she found her voice suddenly clashing against something. She stopped singing, straining as she listened for the sound competing with her own. She stood, following what she recognized as guitar chords to her open window, and stuck her head out into the cool night air.

Standing just below her was a well-built sixteen year old male, hazel-green eyes shining up at her as he serenaded her from her front yard for all of the world to see.

_Where it began  
I can't begin to knowin'  
But then I know it's growin' strong.  
_

_Was in the spring  
Then spring became the summer.  
Who'da believed you'd come along ?  
_

_Hands  
Touchin' hands  
Reachin' out  
Touchin' me  
Touchin' you._

_Sweet Caroline  
Good times never seemed so good.  
I've been inclined  
To believe they never would.  
But now I –_

Puck was a little worried when he'd first driven here: worried her dads would be home; worried she'd throw something at him like a tomcat on a fence—or worse, not even acknowledge his presence. He had worried about whether he'd found the right words and whether he'd be able to get it all out without puking his guts out from the nerves he felt standing in front of her house. But it didn't stop him; he needed to do this and so he stood outside of her window, strumming the chords and singing a song he picked for her.

_Look at the night  
And it don't seem so lonely  
We fill it up with only two.  
_

_And when I hurt  
Hurtin' runs off my shoulders  
How can I hurt when holdin' you ?  
_

_Warm  
Touchin' warm  
Reachin' out  
Touchin' me  
Touchin' you._

_Sweet Caroline  
Good times never seemed so good.  
I've been inclined  
To believe they never would.  
Oh  
No  
No._

He finished the last chords, and stared up at her still figure, waiting for a response. When she quickly turned from the window, shutting it forcefully, his shoulders slumped and he could feel the burning embarrassment in his face. _Well, that was stupid…_

Puck was about to turn back to his truck when her front door flew open. His eyes met hers, and he couldn't help but relish the look (annoyed, angry… and maybe a little awed) that she fixed him with; felt his heart skip a beat when she grabbed his hand and dragged him inside her house, up the stairs (he glanced around, noting in the back of his mind he'd never seen the entryway, the stairs…); smiled genuinely when she led him to her room and then whirled on him, her sexy purple nightie hugging her legs as she shouted furiously, "What do you think you're doing?" (He didn't care that she was pissed—at least she was talking to him).

"I have to talk to you," he told her earnestly, placing his hands on her shoulders when she began to shake her head in response. "I know that you don't want to listen, and there's no excuse for any of it, but I still want to say my piece."

Rachel's sad doe-eyes stared up at him, and his stomach wrenched at the pain still evident in them. "Why?" she asked softly. "It's over—why does it even matter anymore?"

Puck took a deep breath. "Because you make me a better person," he told her. "Because you were right about everything, and I wanted you to know that."

He let his eyes fall to the floor as he finished his first big confession: "And you deserve everything you want: so if you want to hate me, then you should know every reason why you can." He paused a moment before letting his gaze meet hers again. "And if you think it could even be _possible_ that you could ever trust me again, well, you should know all of it then too."

He didn't say anything, and for a minute, neither did Rachel. She watched him, noting his eyes can't even seem to meet hers anymore. He looks awful (as the stern voice in her head insists he should): sad, but sincere.

She knows she should tell him to leave. She wants to tell him to remove his hands (his rough, calloused, _perfect _hands) and his pathetic (sweet, _romantic) _gestures from the premises before she breaks his head like he broke her heart. Even though she knows she desperately wants to hear his side, the voice in her head screams that she can't trust him; that he'll just say whatever he can to get back into her good graces and she should throw him out right now. She thinks of all the mean-spirited ways she could tell him off for what he's done to her. Instead, however, she finds herself slowly setting herself in her chair, nodding and telling him "Okay; I'm listening."

For the briefest moment his eyes light up, as if he sees potential in her agreeing to hear him out. But the weight of the conversation, the admission he's about to make seems to settle back on him almost instantaneously, and she watches him take a seat on her hope chest.

And so the story begins. She can tell within a minute that he's not making up or omitting anything, because there are so many parts that she knows _he_ knows she is shocked—possibly appalled—by. He tells her about Quinn: how he took her money, screwed around and just messed with so many girls just to bolster her status; how he manipulated her into Finn's arms years ago, and yet he still slept with her. He tells her about meeting _her _for the first time at Santana's party: how he planned it out impeccably, only to have it blow up in his face. And how he couldn't stand being without her: how he manipulated his life to coincide with hers; and how, even when everything came out and Quinn threatened to destroy them, he still cared, confiding in Mike and Matt to try to help her, keep an eye on her.

Throughout the story, Rachel tried to keep her head clear, tried to simply soak in what he was telling her. Because Noah was right: she didn't know whether she wanted to hate him or forgive him, and it seemed this story was going to be the deciding factor. She didn't condone his actions by any means, but as she heard the remorse and passion in his voice, she couldn't help but sympathize with the seemingly lost boy that sat in front of her; the whole thing reminded the voice in her head (which, while no longer livid, was still quite upset) of Stockholm syndrome.

Finally, she heard him pause; perhaps to anyone else it would seem like he just needed a breather, maybe that he was even finished. But Rachel knew him better: the way his hand rubbed the back of his neck; his eyes refusing to look up from the floor. He was stalling—there was something more that he wasn't telling her. Something big.


	22. Chapter 22

"I suppose what I don't yet fully comprehend," she finally told him. "Was how you managed to direct those women to the men of your choosing. How did you convince Quinn she loved Finn? How were you going to convince _me_ I loved-" her nose wrinkled in disgust "-_Jacob_? While your sexual prowess is…intoxicating, Noah, I don't understand how you could lead them so astray in regards to their true feelings."

She watched him steadily, his face cringing from a yet-unspoken guilt. His hand slowly drifted to his back pocket and produced what she could only identify as a white triangular packet with what looked like a small blade on one edge.

"It's called Cupid's Arrow," he explained softly. "My good-for-nothing deadbeat dad gave it to me before he left; told me I could use it to hold on to any girl I wanted; could pawn her off onto any other guy when I was done with her." He watched her eyes process the information, then quickly continued, "I took it, used it for friends like Finn; and sometimes for big money like Quinn. I was supposed to use it on you, but that night—I accidentally..."

The brunette watched him trail off, her eyes going wide with hurt as she processed what he was telling her.

"So you didn't really—" she tried to ask, her voice trembling slightly. "I mean, you only…because of _that_?" She pushed herself away from him, her face turning bright red as she even said it. Her feelings had been real, and now he was telling her that his were induced. She felt beyond humiliated, and all she wanted to do was get out of sight (possibly out of the country).

But Noah was faster, reaching out and grabbing her arm as he shook his head hard. "No," he told her, running his free hand against his face as his it scrunched up in thought. "I mean, well, I thought so at first. That I could only think about you, give a fuck what you thought because I was high. Hell, I even tried hooking up with _anybody_ just to flush you out of my system." He cut himself off, possibly seeing in her expression the hole he was digging for himself. "I mean, I _thought_ that, especially when you- i mean _it_- i mean when _this whole goddamn mess _wouldn't go away…" he backtracked quickly. "But then…God, I feel like such a pussy…"

She watched him with curiosity, completely at a loss for even how to begin to feel as he tried to sort out his thoughts. She knew she should run: he was a sociopath with an illegal substance that he'd tried to use on her, to take advantage of her—it all sounded like the equivalent of date rape. But she knew herself, and how she'd felt that night- he hadn't pushed her into anything she didn't want; and so now she simply felt overwhelmed in her desire to understand him. "But then?" she couldn't help but prod.

Noah shook his head, releasing her arms (to which she could feel her entire body protest) and turning his back on her. "Things started changing, you know? I mean, girls started dating other guys, and some stayed together, and I realized that I didn't know jack shit about this stuff. I couldn't stand feeling—you know— about you the way I did without knowing how long it was going to last, or whether it was all smoke and mirrors, you know? So I drove down to OSU and talked to this guy I knew in the Chem Department—"

"You drove to Ohio State University?" Rachel interjected incredulously.

"Yeah," he replied distractedly, looking out the window. "And so I paid him to get me into the lab. And from there, we just used the GS-MS to break it all down and figure out the key players..."

"You used a gas chromatographer-mass spectrometer machine?" the tiny brunette asked, now even more surprised. "You know what one _is_?"

He finally turned back to face her, so intent on finishing his confession that she was fairly certain he hadn't even heard her. He moved to close the space between them and looked back into her (admittedly) wondering eyes as he spoke sincerely. "And what it all came down to is this: the shit's temporary. It's a mix of THC and Ecstasy to create an intense post-orgasmic awesomeness, a kind of surreal pleasure zone, so you're mind is open to interpretation. But the key Rache," he sat back on the chest, pulling her eye level to him. "The key is called Phenethlyamine—it's a chemical your body produces when it's really happy, like it's in love or some shit. And for a couple weeks, whoever I convinced them they were happy with, they thought they were." He shook his head in amazement. "But the crazy thing is, after awhile, the feeling fades, and everyone's left with how they really feel. So Quinn? She really fucking loves Finn. And me?" he met her gaze with complete honesty and openness that caused her heart to jump wildly in her chest. "God Rache; I love you so much it fucking hurts." He let his eyes drift off as he said it, mumbling, "As much as it sounds like bullshit or like I'm fucking pussy-whipped, I do."

She couldn't help it: her hand, aching to reach out since he arrived, now slid up to his face, gently holding his jaw. That little bit of contact apparently was more than either of them could take, however, and they both collapsed into each other's arms, holding on as if they hadn't seen each other in years (which, considering they were teenagers, it might as well have been).

* * *

Puck didn't know how long this would last, and for the moment he didn't care. He didn't care that a couple tears slid down his face as he buried himself into her dark hair; that he'd basically just signed his balls away to a girl that he wasn't sure would ever take him back; that by saying "I love you" twice to a chick that hadn't even said it in return once, that holding her now with pretty much no thought about trying to get that satin nightie off probably would cause him to lose all of his badass credibility. He didn't fucking care about any of that, choosing to just grip her tighter and feel that if the world ended right now by aliens or a nuclear bomb or whatever that he'd be okay as long as the last thing he felt was this.

And yeah, he knew the moment had to end. He felt everything in him protest as she pulled away from him, and his heart broke as he saw the tears brimming in her eyes and watched her sit herself back on the trunk.

"Noah," she said slowly, and he sat next to her as she took one of his hands in both of hers. "I want you to know that I appreciate you being honest with me. Despite the despicable actions that you've seemed to partaken in over the years, you appear to be sincere in your regret and making the mature decision in accepting full responsibility for your actions. I'm even more impressed with the level of dedication you put in identifying your illicit substance to make amends for the difficulties you may have caused others."

She squeezed his hand, and he tensed for the "but" he could feel coming.

"I want to tell you I love you Noah," she whispered, her voice breaking slightly. "I care about you so much, and I feel like we're just so right for each other. Like no matter where I am or what I'm doing, I'll remember you for the rest of my life." She took a steadying breath and met his hopeful eyes. "But I don't feel like I can trust you Noah. What happened between us was a lie from the beginning; and now I don't know what part of us is real and which is part of a fantasy we seemed to have concocted in the dark. "

He watched her as she let go of his hands and walked to the door, opening it to excuse him. "And if I can't trust you, I can't I love you—I just don't think I can be."

He let his eyes hit the ground so she wouldn't see how hard her words had hit him. He'd known it was a long shot, but the minute he'd found himself back in her room, with all of its familiarity seemingly rooting for him—and her in the perfect reuniting outfit (shut up—it would've been perfect to slip off of her, okay?)—he'd really thought he'd had a chance.

As he walked past her, defeated, he let his fingers graze her arm gently, whispering, "You know that you're just as in love with me as I am with you."

Rachel was trying to stand strong—she was tense and trying to hold back tears. He didn't want to make her cry, didn't want her to break. He just wanted her to realize that they were meant for each other. That he could be that guy for her.

Which he knew was true when she inadvertently replied, "I'll get over it."

He knew she was just trying to get rid of him; that she wasn't thinking about what she was saying when she tried to be hurtful so she could be alone with her pain. But that line—those four words that his Broadway diva had to have known—stopped him in his tracks.

He whirled to look at her, and she stared up at him, puzzled at his change in demeanor.

"_Why would anyone want to get over the one thing you hope for from the minute you're born and remember until the day you die?_" he asked her, quoting verbatim the line to his own Sarah Brown.

Her eyes went wide in recognition, and he didn't give her an opportunity to think otherwise. He closed the space between them and ran his hands through her hair, pulling her lips to his own.

She must've been rubbing off on him, because in that moment he could've sworn he heard the musical crescendo signaling reconciliation and a hopeful future. And as he looked into her eyes, shining back at him for the first time in so long, he knew that he wouldn't let her down again.

Things weren't completely right—but give him time. They would be.

_It's my time_

_And you're the only doll I've ever wanted to share it with me._

_

* * *

_

**A/N:** Yea me! Almost done! Seriously, you didn't think I could just end it without some exposition? So one more chapter!

**Extra A/N:** In case you missed it, the quotes, the ending lines- all from _Guys and Dolls_, which I found quite appropriate for this piece.


	23. Epilogue

**Sorry it took so long- all for an epilogue.**

* * *

"Noah! Where are we going?" Rachel squealed as her boyfriend steered her blindfolded through the halls of William McKinley High School. "We are expected to attend our post-graduation celebration with our friends tonight, and we still need to change and my fathers are expecting us to check in before dinner and—"

She was effectively silenced by his lips over hers, moaning a little in pleasure as he pushed her against the lockers and gently nibbled her bottom lip. Her lips parted, allowing his tongue to slide inside and massage hers, slowly and deliberately. She ground against him as one of his hands slid to cup her ass through the red polyester gown she was still wearing, while the other hand weaved its way through her hair to pull her closer.

Two years and change had passed since they'd decided to make a real go at their relationship. Two years of kissing, hot sex, fighting, make-up sex, singing, lectures, and sneaking-a-quickie-sex and they were still going strong. Granted, there'd been those three weeks in November when they'd had a huge blowout over colleges and the future and all that; but by December they'd decided that the future wasn't worth ruining the present and gotten back together. Go figure it hadn't mattered anyways, since she'd gotten into Julliard, taking her dream to the next level, and he'd surprised everyone by kick his SAT's ass and been accepted into NYU—a nineteen minute drive, less by subway (not that he'd looked it up—she'd been the one doing all the math). He'd decided to take on a music minor, just because it was something he enjoyed and didn't require an audition; but what made him really proud was that he'd gotten in declared—chemistry. Rachel had pushed him to take his schoolwork more seriously, and he'd even taken some of the lower division courses at Rhodes State Community College just to prove he was good for this (not to mention that would get him closer to working with the good stuff faster). The fact that he did well not only actually stroked his ego quite a bit, but you can bet that it totally turned his girl on.

She was right about other things too. He didn't have to completely let the badass Puck go, but instead redirected him toward more useful outlets, things like Glee and football that she'd insisted would look promising on a college application.

And while the two years certainly didn't fly by, they didn't feel like the torment he had expected. Maybe because his diva had continually pushed him in preparation of getting the fuck out of Lima. Or maybe it was because he finally stopped hanging around Quinn and her constant degradation of his potential (thank his midget for drilling certain SAT words into his brain).

Sometimes he wishes that she'd gotten her comeuppance for all the shit she put them through, but go figure, Karma doesn't always work the way you want it to. She stayed Queen Bee more or less, though without Puck and the constant supply of rearranging rank, she was constantly battling for the top spot with Santana. On top of that, she and Finn broke up just two weeks ago. Rumor had it that they didn't want to work the long distance relationship they were going to have when she made for OSU and he left for Western Michigan, but he didn't really pay attention.

Although, what he did find a little more than interesting (to the point that the little midget he was now kissing would smack him when he looked too distracted by it) were the two Cheerios following him. Apparently Santana and Brittany were also getting full rides as Broncos (though he couldn't help but wonder how Brittany had graduated high school, much less gotten into a college), and the Latina and her busty blonde had taken a shine to the gawky teen. The locker room was constantly buzzing in jealousy over the last week about the crazy three-way tryst that his best friend seemed to have lucked into.

Regardless, the only thing that Puck could find himself really focusing on when he thought of the future (besides working with fucking awesome shit that could probably kill someone) was the girl in front of him. And, as much fun as he was having with her in an abandoned hallway against a row of lockers, he had better plans.

* * *

He gave her ass and extra squeeze before making sure her blindfold was secured across her eyes and continuing their trek through the empty school.

Through the corridors as the sun slowly began to sink outside the windows, Puck finally pulled her into a room he'd specifically unlocked for this night. When he removed her blindfold, he watched with a smirk of satisfaction as his girl looked around, taking in his choice.

"Really Noah?" she asked, her eyebrows arched cynically. "You want to defile the dance studio? Isn't that kind of anticlimactic?"

He grinned at her assessment. Assuming he was choosing something crazy and edgy (as he usually did), she would have been right: considering how much time she spent here practicing, she knew how easy it was to procure and copy a key to this particular space; how, considering school was over and graduation had just happened, there would be little to no security on the grounds; and how, compared to other places he'd convinced her to have a go in (the library, the choir room, Figgins' office), this one was really pretty tame.

But that wasn't why he'd decided to bring his dark-eyed Berry to the dance room. "Rache," he spoke softly, lazily, as his fingers grazed up her arm, reaching behind her to unzip the red garbage bag she was enveloped in (he'd pulled that shit—plus his tie and dress shirt—off him as soon as he could escape his ma). "I didn't bring you here because it was hard to do. I brought you here to tell you something important."

Her eyes fixed on him quizzically. He finished unzipping her gown and started slowly sliding it off of her, kissing the exposed skin as it revealed itself. She giggled happily, stepping out of the outfit and kicking it to the side, leaving her in a black halter dress that barely made it down her thighs and strappy stilettos that added two inches to her tiny stature. She moved to wrap her arms around him, but he held her hands in his own, continuing to kiss down her shoulders, elbows, and wrists until he'd kissed each of her fingers.

He pulled her into another deep kiss, nibbling her bottom lip, scraping the inside softly with his teeth. She moaned, and he could feel his slacks tighten in anticipation.

Rachel pulled away just long enough between kisses to ask, "You sure we're here to talk Noah?" Her smile was positively sinful, and the glint in her eyes took his mind straight to the gutter.

But he was here to tell her something, and he pulled away (relishing her tiny whimper) and locked into her dark eyes.

"Rache," he stated, and her eyebrows quirked up curiously at his somber tone. "Before I met you, I didn't care about much of anything besides getting into a girl's pants. Even after I first met you-even then all I really cared about was getting into _your_ pants."

He paused to watch her smirk as she waited patiently for him to finish. He loved that she trusted him enough to wait for him to get to the point. "And after I was in your pants, that's pretty much all I cared about for awhile, 'cuz _damn_—"

"Noah?" Okay, apparently not _that_ patient.

He blinked. "Right," he continued. "But then I started caring about other things—school and people and shit. And now I've got the hottest chick in this damn town, and I'm leaving with her for New York. And you, Rache—" he turned her around to face the floor-to-ceiling mirror opposite them "—you were really the kick in the ass I needed. I owe you for that."

She smiled, her eyes shining at his speech. He didn't make them that often since sophomore year (he still maintained _some _semblance of owning his own balls), but he wanted her to know that she'd been the catalyst he needed to start his life, the water to his sodium (which, by the way, was the coolest fucking reaction ever).

He smirked wide, confession and pansy feelings over. "So," he told her roughly, pressing her backside into his rock-hard erection. "I figured I'd get started here paying off my debt."

The brunette smiled and began to reach backwards for him, but he held her hand steady in his own.

"Actually, babe," he whispered in her ear, feeling her shiver at the vibration. "There's a reason I chose this room."

He reached up with his free hand, loosening the ties holding up her dress. The top fell free, exposing her perfect breasts. Puck stared into the mirror, stifling a groan at the gorgeous girl in front of him.

"Watch," he whispers hoarsely, and he can feel the petite girl nodding helplessly. He runs his hand down her neck, sliding across her collarbone and cupping her left breast. Rachel let out a slight whimper as he tweaked the nipple softly, kissing down her neck. He took his hand, still holding hers, and brought her hand up to ghost in between her breasts, before massaging the right one.

His cock twitched as he listened to her gasp, and he manipulated her fingers to pinch the nipple she was holding. She rolled her eyes upward, groaning when he stopped her hand, waiting until she looked back at their reflection. He continued to lead her hands around her chest, his tongue stroking her ear, her neck, before reaching around to gain access into her mouth.

Rachel twisted toward him, not quite facing, and couldn't help but watch as they kissed in the mirror: his tongue sliding in and out between them; their lips touching briefly; her own chest (still being fondled by his hand and his hand on hers) heaving. They'd expanded the venues for their encounters over the years, but never to somewhere so open, so bright. And watching through the mirror just heightened the experience, the thrill.

She blinked slowly, trying desperately to keep her eyes open as she groaned into his mouth. When she opened them she realized that her hand was no longer on her breast, that Puck was now using his hand to guider hers slowly down her stomach, playing with the material still clinging to her waist. He coaxed her hand up and down her torso, nails trailing through the valley of her breasts before ghosting downward just past her belly button. She watched entranced as his free hand teased up her dress, temporarily distracted by his eyes as he groaned at the realization that she'd chosen to not only forgo a bra, but panties as well (She'd dated Noah for more than two years after all—she'd consider herself a fool if she hadn't expected something like this to occur).

"Goddamn it, Rache," he groaned, and she felt his erection give an involuntary thrust against her. Her own breath caught as his fingers traced her soaked folds, sliding along her clit. "_Goddamn it_."

She heard him gasp, then let her eyes slide back to his hand in the reflection as he made quick work of the zipper, removing his hand from hers as he slid the dress down her body, moving downward with it until he was kneeling in front of her as she was reduced to only heels.

Rachel looked down to her Noah, watching him as he suddenly lifted her by the waist and pushed her against the wall. They suddenly became lost in the carnality of the moment, reaching and grabbing and kissing anything they could. She ground against him hard, pulling off his undershirt to feel the smooth tone of his chest as his cock tried frantically to escape its confinement within the dark slacks. Noah kissed her roughly, grabbing her hair to expose her neck as he kissed and sucked and bit ever inch he could reach, panting harder and becoming more aggressive as she cried out in pleasure, her nails gripping into his shoulders. His hands tightened around her waist, one reaching around to grab her ass and pull it closer to his throbbing dick. After a few thrusts, she opened her eyes wide as she felt his fingers swirling around her clit, massaging and squeezing to match the bites into her nipples by his teeth.

His thumb replaced his fingers, and she suddenly felt two of them insert into her, pumping slowly but purposely against her. His mouth completely enveloped her nipples, his tongue flicking around the already hard peaks, and Rachel felt her breathing becoming labored, couldn't help but writhe against his hand, trying to force them deeper, faster within her.

She all but screamed in ecstasy when he lifted her up against the wall, her toes half a foot from the ground, her heels dangling, barely attached. Noah continued to pound his fingers into her, his free arm balancing her on the rail. She reached for his pants, could feel his desire to be inside of her, but he slipped away from her outstretched hands, repositioning her on the railing, holding her steady as his head ducked down between her thighs.

Rachel mewled slightly, wriggling as her body screamed when it realized that Noah (damn his restraint) had managed to compose himself again. He slowed down, his tongue gently tracing her wet folds, slightly tugging at her clit.

"Noah, please…_please_…" she whimpered, trying to force him into her tight, wet heat.

Her boyfriend, her lover, smirked up at her, his eyes dark with lust (or were those hers reflecting back at her?) "Tell me," he demanded.

She gazed down at him, her chest heaving, and begged "God, Noah—make me come."

With those words, she could feel his own breathing getting heavier as his tongue stroked her nerves hard for good measure, then entered her pussy. His tongue swirled inside of her, pausing only to thrust in and out. His thumb rubbed her clit hard, and in the back of her mind Rachel recognized the possibility of falling off of the railing if she arched any farther. She couldn't help it though, and as Noah's tongue slid against her g-spot, she just trusted that he could hold her.

She felt herself edging out, and reached for his head, pulling him further into her.

"Oh God Noah—_Noah—Noah!_"

Rachel felt herself riding the waves of her orgasm, convulsing as she felt (and watched) Noah lap up her juices eagerly. She tried shakily to regain her breathing as she finally slid off of the railing.

"I can't hold it any longer, babe," he told her, his breathing ragged from anticipation, and she smiled.

"Don't," she told him, unzipping his pants and watching him shuck them to the side. He grabbed her and pushed her against the piano, kissing her fervently as he entered her.

Of all the things Puck was grateful for, birth control was a big one. That his girl was on birth control was even better. They may not go bareback as often as he liked, but it made spontaneity a lot easier. And feeling her wet cunt against his dick was making him even harder.

He kissed her again, then roughly flipped her over. His teeth scraped against her neck as he thrust into her again and again. His fingers dug into her tiny waist, and he could feel himself hitting his peak.

"Babe; I'm gonna come," he warned her, reaching for her clit. He wanted her to come with him; he loved the feeling of them riding together.

She lifted her head to him, and she could hear her gasp out, "Watch…"

He followed her eyes to the mirror, and he definitely loved his choice for their last McKinley High sex date. Maybe it was his ego, but watching his naked girl as her eyes rolled upward when he pounded into her, his fingers rubbing her clit was hot. His eyes widened, however, as he watched her reach back, taking his balls in her hand and tugging slightly as she rolled them gently between her fingers.

Puck's breath hitched. He was going to fucking lose it. He angled himself to make sure he was pounding on her g-spot and started riding her hard. Her groans simply fueled him on, and his balls in her hands were taking him over.

"Rachel…Goddamn…Fuck!"

Thank God for small favors. He could feel her clench, hear her moaning his name, and felt her rush as she tumbled over. He followed almost instantaneously, driving into her as his juices flowed.

They both collapsed onto the hardwood floor, breathless. They just took in the moment, their last rendezvous as high school students.

It was Rachel that broke the silence, giggling softly. "That was perfect," she whispered.

Puck smirked. "Fuckin' phenomenal, babe."

She smiled at him, her sweat-soaked body beautiful in the sunlit room. "The perfect ending," she told him, tracing her hand against his jaw.

He grabbed it, pulling her on top of him to kiss her lips. "Nah, Rache," he told her. "The perfect beginning."

She stared at him for a moment, eyebrow arched. "Really cheesy, Noah." She kissed him again. "But sweet."

Puck kissed her again, realizing once again he was losing his balls. "Yeah, yeah," he mumbled, slightly embarrassed. "Let's get to the party and celebrate getting out of this hellhole alive."

Rachel smiled as they gathered up their clothes. She couldn't help but love him, and despite her Cupid's bravado, she knew he felt the same. And that was good enough for her.

* * *

**A/N:** so I know some of you are probably mad Quinn didn't really get hers, but I'd like to point out that A) Aphrodite didn't get her comeuppance in the story, and B) how often does that really happen anyways?

**Other A/N:** you guys were awesome; I don't think I've ever had such passionate reviews, and it was pretty cool that anybody cared enough about the characters to comment. so thanks.

**Final A/N:** thanks to Noelle for the prompt- this was actually super fun.


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